The Biggest Change
by shana852963
Summary: The recess gang is in high school. They aren't the close bunch of friends they once were; in fact, they hardly ever say a word to one another. But when one event occurs that will change each teen's life forever, will it be enough to reunite the group?
1. Chapter 1

AN- I just wanted to make note that this story is totally unrelated to my other recess stories, Recess Drama, The Complications of Life and Let the Hard Times Roll in. Well, on that note, I hope you all enjoy this one :)

...

It had been years since the days of Third Street Elementary School, back when the six could not be separated.

But that was now in the past.

Yes, as unlikely as it seemed, the golden group had dissolved.

There was no huge fight or argument or anything of that nature. T.J., Vince, Spinelli, Gretchen, Mikey and Gus simply didn't hang out together anymore.

It began in middle school. A bigger campus, more students…perhaps it was only natural.

Gretchen, of course, being as smart as she was, was placed into the Advanced classes, automatically isolating her and ensuring the fact that she would have no classes with the rest of her friends.

The others weren't any luckier. They were all placed in different homerooms and classes throughout the day, barely even getting a glance at their friends during class change. Unlike elementary school, where there had been only one lunch, there were now three, and as luck would have it, the six were all spread out. Gretchen and Mikey had the first lunch, Spinelli and Vince had the second and T.J. and Gus got stuck in third.

But in the time it took to finally spot one another in the crowded cafeteria, lunch would have nearly ended and few words could be exchanged as they scarffed down what they could of their lunch. Soon, it just became easier to sit next to a group of kids from their last class than search each other out.

Sure, for a while they managed to get by hanging out together after school. But then after school activities took over and Vince had baseball practice and Gretchen had science club and Mikey had drama.

It had been a gradual progress; instead of seeing each other everyday, the gang got together on weekends; and then only during school holidays; and then just once every few months. Soon even those scarce meetings became non-existent and contact was limited to a quick smile in the halls or a friendly nod in the lunch line. And soon those small gestures disappeared until each member of the once seemingly ideal group of friends just became another face in the crowded school.

Now the gang was in its junior year of high school, and they were just as distant as they had been in middle school.

Spinelli had embraced her artsy side. She hung out with students from the art club and would wear only clothes she had designed herself and her signature boots.

T.J. and Vince both turned to athletics. T.J. played for the soccer team while Vince was the captain of the track, basketball and baseball teams. Once and awhile the soccer team would do something with the basketball team or one of Vince's other teams, and the two former best friends would be forced into the same environment. However after a polite hello, each would retreat back to their own side.

Gretchen, to nobody's surprise, was the school brain. She was number one in the class and enrolled in so many Advanced Placement classes that it was a wonder she could even sleep. She devoted the little free time she had to the National Honor Society, Science and Math clubs, and the robotics team. Her circle consisted of the other over achievers of school, their topics of discussion rarely ever straying from academics.

Mikey put his soul into the drama department. Staring in every school play, he sometimes found that acting like a character on stage was easier than being himself. Still a rather large boy, Mikey was often teased for his size, and the fact that he was in the drama club, which most kids in the school labeled a "queer-zone", didn't help the bullying.

Gus had taken the break up the group the hardest. Maybe it was because they were the first real friends he had had. Gus had only one person he hung out with now: Frances Abrams; the former Hustler Kid. Almost as he had back in fourth grade he became Frances's apprentice. Gus would try to appear unnerved whenever Frances would give him drugs to deliver to a student or force him to collect money from a client. He tried to pretend he was okay with it all.

…

It began like any other regular day. Students struggled to stay awake during the classes but were suddenly fully alert come lunch time.

Ironically, every year during high school, the gang had the same lunchtime.

…..

"Spin, that's way too much like your landscape you did last year," Spinelli's friend Joe told her, picking up her sketchpad.

"Is it?" Spinelli frowned. "Oh well, I might as well start over." She pulled a charcoal pencil out of the pocket of her baggy black pants.

"Don't worry," Spinelli's other friend, Glenn, told her, absentmindedly scribbling her nails with a pink marker. "You'll get first in that art show for sure."

"Thanks," Spinelli mumbled, turning to a new page of her sketchbook. She looked around the cafeteria, looking for something that would inspire her.

It was useless, though, she realized after staring around for five minutes. This was high school, after all. No one ever did anything even remotely inspiring here.

…..

"Dude, that was an awesome game yesterday," Vince's best friend, Jack said to him. "Three pointer at the buzzer…you were on fire!"

"He always is," Vince's girlfriend, a very attractive cheerleader named Amanda said, wrapping her hands around him.

Vince tried to smile. "Yeah, thanks. But it was Cole that passed it to me, you know."

"Eh, Cole's not the one who made the shot, though," Jack pointed out. "That was all you man."

Vince looked away, plastering on a fake grin as his girlfriend hugged him even tighter.

He always felt like this...empty, and he could never fathom why. Here he was, star athlete, popular, had a stunning girlfriend…and yet, he didn't feel happy.

…

"I can't believe they got rid of the tater tots," T.J. said, stabbing the crappy carrot sticks that served as the tots' replacement.

"Yeah, real bummer," his friend, Sebastian, said offhandedly, taking a bite of his sandwich.

"Now they've gotten rid of deserts and those," T.J. continued to fume. "Why?"

"Probably so kids don't get fat," said his other friend, Steve. "I mean we can't have a whole school of Blumburg's walking around, can we?"

The rest of the table burst out laughing. T.J. tried to laugh around with them, but it was a weak attempt.

"Anyway," T.J. said, changing the subject before this lunch became another rag-on-Mikey session. "I think maybe I should start a petition about the tater tots and send it to the school board along with-"

"Dude, relax," Sebastian said, rolling his eyes. "It's not that big of a deal…Sometimes you've just got to leave things as they are."

T.J. nodded. "Yeah, you're right."

The problem was, that T.J. had never been good at that.

…..

Gretchen struggled to keep her eyes open as she flipped through her textbook, which she propped against a bottle of water. She had been up until three in the morning working on a physics project, and it was looking like tonight would be another long night tonight.

"How did you do on Mr. Lake's test?" asked her friend, Beth, who was nearly as smart as her.

"100," Gretchen replied without even looking up from her textbook.

"Same here. By the way, you're coming to the math meeting after school, right? We have the competition next Saturday and we really need to beat Ulysses High to advance to the finals."

"I'll be there," Gretchen assured her. "I just need to swing by Mr. Yings room to ask him about my paper on the Triangular Trade System that he wanted me to enter in the History Fair first."

"Okay, just don't be late," Beth told her. "Remember, we're all counting on you."

"I know," Gretchen sighed, closing her textbook. "I know."

….

"Mikey, guess what?" Mikey's friend, Sheldon, asked, running over to his table. "I was just talking to Ms. Rhodes and she said that we have enough money in the drama club account to get new costumes before the one-act competition next month!"

"That's great!" Mikey smiled. "Can you imagine how cool it will be when we get up on stage wearing-"

"Whoops, sorry there, Mikeysaurus," two basketball players said, walking past Mikey, purposefully spilling their milk cartons onto his lap as they passed.

Mikey grabbed a napkin from his tray and tried to soak up the milk from his pants. He watched as the two jocks sat down at Vince's table, feeling a surge of sadness well up inside him at the sight of his former friend.

"Tough break, Mikey," Sheldon said, handing him his own napkins as well.

"It's fine," Mikey sighed. "Just forget about it."

…..

"Yo, Griswald?" one of Frances's regulars said, sitting down next to Gus. "Where's Franki with my stuff?"

"I don't know, Dylan," Gus said. "He said he had to get something from his locker."

"But I _need_ him," the boy said, his hands shaking. "Don't you have anything for me?"

"You know Frances doesn't give me that stuff to sell," Gus told him. "Just wait and he'll take care of you."

"I can't wait; I need the goods now!"

"Fine," Gus conceded, standing up. "I'll go look for him."

He headed out of the cafeteria in search of Frances, so that there could be yet one more happy customer.

…

The bell to release students from lunch would be ringing in five minutes. Students were just beginning to finish their meals and get up to throw their trash away. Suddenly, there was a large explosion from outside the school. The students exchanged curious glances with one another, wondering aloud what could cause such a noise. Just then, the cafeteria door opened, and the deafening sound of gunshots ricocheted through the room.


	2. Chapter 2

"What the hell?" T.J.'s friend Steve exclaimed, jumping out of his seat, as the cafeteria became a frenzy. "What is going on?"

"Run!" T.J. yelled.

T.J. grabbed his friend's wrist and pulled him through the sea of students, running for their life.

The cafeteria of the school was close to the main exit, thankfully. But with hundreds of kids pushing to get out, escape seemed near impossible.

"Go out the side door!" T.J. gasped as he heard more shots go off behind him and screams erupting everywhere.

T.J., Steve and Sebastian quickly separated themselves from the crowd and ran through the connecting hallway, passed the lockers. As they passed classrooms, teachers with classes still in session were sticking their heads out their doors, looking for a cause for the sudden racket.

"Detwiller, Evans, Jackson," Mr. Dorfman, T.J.'s math teacher exclaimed, stepping in front of the running boys. "What is going on? What's the-"

"Someone has a gun!" T.J. yelled.

Mr. Dorfman's face changed from annoyed to stone white. "Get out," he said softly. Then he turned to his class. "Everyone out through the side door. Now!"

More students, it seemed, figured out that taking this route was more efficient, and this hallway was now filling with both students and teachers. Someone had pulled the fire alarm, but it could barely be heard over the screams.

Suddenly the gunshots grew louder, and T.J. looked back for a second and saw the body of a freshman girl slump over, bloody, before she was trampled by the crowd.

"Come on, man!" Sebastian screamed.

T.J. forced himself to turn back around and continued running until they finally managed to squeeze through the side door. The boys didn't stop running until they reached the flagpole, which seemed to have become the unofficial gathering spot for the students as they finally managed to get outside the school.

T.J. tried to catch his breath as he watched half his classmates collapse from exhaustion and shock while the other half looked frantically around for friends. He managed to hear bits of conversations.

"He had four guns-"

"I know he got at least three-"

"I can't believe-"

"Who-who was it?" T.J. finally managed to ask. He had never gotten a look at the shooter before the bullets started firing. He tried to figure how someone could've gotten into the school's locked front doors and into the cafeteria.

"Frances," one girl whispered. "Frances Abrams."

T.J. blinked. A _student_ had done this? One who he knew, nonetheless. True, him and the former Hustler kid weren't exactly friends, but just the idea of someone who he had once talked to, no matter how many years ago, made the situation even more…surreal.

By this time police cars and fire trucks were speeding into the parking lot. Parents were rushing in, praying that they would find their child unhurt.

"Did everyone get out?" T.J. asked, almost afraid to hear the answer.

"No," Sebastian replied, still looking at the school. "This can't be everyone; this is only about half of us…"

T.J. looked around. He saw kids from some of his classes and faces he only knew from the hallway. Then he spotted Spinelli, standing a short ways away from him, and Vince, huddled with his own friends. He knew they weren't friends anymore, but just knowing that they were at least okay made him feel the smallest bit better.

He suddenly felt his phone vibrate in his pocket, and saw that he had 5 missed calls within the last two minutes, all from his mom.

"Mom?" he said weakly.

"Oh, thank goodness!" she said on the other line. "It just came up on the news…the shooting…please tell me you're okay!"

"I'm fine, mom," he replied. "I got out of the school."

"I'm coming to get you right now," she said.

"Okay. I'm by the flagpole out front."

"You be careful, T.J.; stay far away from the building," his mother warned. "I love you."

"How many ambulances do they need?" Steve asked weakly as five more came zooming into the parking lot.

"Have they got him yet?" T.J. asked, watching more and more police officers, protected by bulletproof vests and guns of their own run into the school.  
>"Dunno," Steve shrugged. "I can't believe he did it…I mean, I know he was weird and a pot head and all that but still…"<p>

T.J. said nothing.

Nearly half an hour had passed since the first shot.

News trucks had now shown up, along with the president of the school board and just a few passers who saw the scene and wanted to know what was going on. Parents, abandoning their cars on the side of the road leading up to the school were now running on foot up to the building calling out their children's names, only to be pulled back by the police officers guarding the door.

T.J. was staring at the scene with feeling of both sadness and astonishment when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He looked over to see his mother.

Suddenly, T.J. didn't care that a large portion of the student body was around. He cried, tears flowing freely down his face.

"It's going to be alright," his mother whispered gently. "It's going to be alright."

Steve and Sebastian, who had decided earlier to try and get some more information from one of the officers by the door came running back over to T.J.

"He killed himself;" Steve said. "Frances. Shot himself in the head right as the cops approached him."

T.J. didn't know how to react, so he simply nodded. "How many did he-"

"They're going to put a list up for the parents," Sebastian said. "Of everyone who was taken to the hospital…dead or alive."

"Dead?" T.J. repeated.

"All I know is that there were at least four deaths, according to Principal Rollands," Steve said heavily. "Maybe more, I don't know. We're going to go look at the list; do you want to come?"

"Is that alright, mom?" T.J. asked, turning to his mother.

"You meet me right here when you're done," she said reluctantly. "No more than five minutes."

The boys walked slowly over to the bulletin board set against the front doors of the school, which were now being sealed with yellow crime scene tape by two officers. They had to fight their way through the crowd of parents and students to see the list.

It was ominously long; two pages of names. T.J. saw parents break down when they saw their child's name, not knowing whether they were taken to the hospital for a sprained ankle from running through the school or for something far worse…

It pained T.J. to see all the names, even though most of them he didn't even know. He did see Ashley B's. name, though he had seen her being loaded into the ambulance on the way over with only fractured leg. He saw Nancy Ortega's, the former swinger girl's, name, as well as Sam Higgens, one half of the old Diggers, and even Lawson's name…

"We all made it," Steve said, breathing a sigh of relief.

T.J. was about to ask what he was talking about when he realized that he was referring to the fact that none of the names of the student's T.J. now hung out with were on the list.

He continued scanning the list. He did the smallest of double takes when he saw Mikey Blumburg on the list, followed by Randlle Wheems. And then he saw Gretchen Grundler printed right underneath Theresa Goldings, aka Cornship Girl.

"Let's go," T.J. said, unable to take reading another name. "I've got to get home."

They boys walked back over to the flagpole. On the way back, they passed one of the remaining ambulances, and T.J. saw a paramedic placing a sheet of gauze over a bloody mess on Mikey's arm. T.J. felt a bit of relief, knowing that at least Mikey got out alive, but then he thought about Gretchen…

"Come on, T.J.," his mom said when the boys returned. "We're going home. Steve, Sebastian; where are your parents?"

"They both work outside the city," Steve answered. "They called and said they left work and would be here in ten minutes."

"Come with us," she said. "Call them and tell them to meet you at our house."

T.J. followed his mother back to the car, which was parked in the middle of a grassy lot next to the school. They passed Flo and Bob, Spinelli's parents, who were just getting out of their car, rushing towards the school. T.J. saw the panicked looks on their faces.

"She's by the flagpole," he said to the worried couple. "I just saw her."

Relief spread through their faces, and though T.J. hadn't talked to these people in years, he felt as though they shared a special connection, just for a moment.

"Thank you," Flo said gratefully before her and her husband turned back towards the school.

T.J. and his friends loaded into his mother's car and silently drove towards his house. As they passed the school, he saw students still running around, looking for friends and siblings as paramedics tried to find room for all the injured.

_How could this happen?_ He wondered. _How?_


	3. Chapter 3

Vince tried to slow his breathing. He couldn't believe what he had just watched unfold in front of his eyes. He'd heard about this happening. Heck, last year in Psychology he had watched an entire documentary on the minds of killers, but seeing such a massacre at his own school was something he had never even thought could happen. He was standing by the flagpole waiting from his friends to come back from looking at the list of the injured and dead. He refused to go with them. He didn't want to chance seeing someone he recognized, even if they only bumped shoulders once back in freshman year, on it.

His parents had seen the shooting on the news. They both worked out of the city and had left their jobs as soon as they heard word. They had called Vince and told him to get himself right home, but he wanted to wait for the rest of his friends. His parents were going to be at least an hour anyway.

Vince spotted his friends walking back over, their usual cocky grins replaced with grim expressions.

"Chris Phillips," his friend Jack said softly as they reached him. "He's dead."

Vince blinked. Chris Phillips was the captain of the football team, and while the two boys weren't close friends, Vince had talked to him a few times.

"Are-Are you sure?" Vince stuttered. "I thought they grouped the names of the dead and injured together with no distinction."

"Ms. Mullen was crying about him," Vince's other friend, Gabriel, said. "We overheard it."

Vince sighed. Then he noticed his girlfriend, Amanda, was missing.

"Where's Amanda?" Vince frowned. "She went over with you guys."

Jack took a deep breath. "Her sister's name was on the list. She ran off to try to find her before we could stop her."

"Shit, man," Vince moaned. Amanda's sister, Colleen, was only a freshman, who like her sister, was on the cheerleading team. "Come on, we've got to try to find her."

The boys set off for the front of the school. Vince tried to spot Amanda, but in all the chaos, it looked like it would be impossible.

Vince moaned in frustration as he leaned against a pole. Two policemen suddenly walked past, one of them talking into his walkie-talkie. Vince could only make out a few words of the conversation.

"Second shooter apprehended, weapon confiscated."

"On our way in. Do you have an ID on him?"

"Student badge in his pocket says Gustav Griswald."

Vince's head jerked up. He couldn't have heard that right…He looked over at Jack and Gabriel's faces, and saw the same shock that he was displaying.

"Griswald? That runty little guy that hung around with Francis?" Jack whispered. "You've got to be bulshitting me."

"He was a second shooter? Why didn't we see him?" Gabriel frowned.

Vince couldn't even respond. Gus, his old friend? Tiny Gus Griswald who used to try so hard just to get people to remember his name shooting up a school? That couldn't be right.

"Dude," Jack said, snapping Vince out of his daze. "I don't think Amanda's here anymore. If she saw her sister getting on one of the ambulances, she would've gone on with her."

Vince nodded. "You're right." Then he took a deep breath, and asked the question he didn't want to ask, but knew he had to. "Who else was on the list?"

"Greg Myers from the lacrosse team," Jack replied. "That Lawson kid, the snitch, Randall, Blumburg, but I saw him getting onto an ambulance; he's alive, just shot in the arm."

"Guess he couldn't run fast enough," Gabriel said weakly.

Vince felt anger boiling inside him. _How_ could anyone make jokes like that at a time like this? It disgusted him.

"Felicity Sage from the swim team," Jack continued. "A few freshman who we didn't know, Ms. Jonas, the geometry teacher, let's see, who else…oh yeah, that brainy girl, what's her name…?"

"Gretchen?" Vince asked, his heart thumping against his ribcage now. "Gretchen Grundler?"

"Yeah, that's her."

Vince looked away. He hadn't talked to Gretchen in years, but still, hearing her name in such a context…

"I'm gonna get home," Vince said heavily.

Jack and Gabriel nodded.

Vince stepped away from the maddening scene; it was too much to comprehend. Gus taking part in this horrific event? Mikey shot? Gretchen possibly worse off? How had things gotten this complicated?

…

Gus looked around at all the blood, and puked. This couldn't be real; it had to just be a bad dream.

He heard heavy footsteps coming down the hall, and for a second he was scared, but when he saw that it was five policemen, he calmed, though he didn't know why they had their guns out.

"Put your weapon down," said one of the policemen.

Gus looked at the gun in his hand, nodded, and placed it on the floor. He started to walk towards the cops, grateful to be rescued, but when he took his first step, another officer yelled, "Freeze!"

Gus was confused. What was going on?

Suddenly two cops approached him while the other three kept their guns pointed at him.

"What are you-" he started, but before he could finish, one cop began placing his wrists in handcuffs and the other began searching the pockets of his baggy jeans. He pulled out his wallet and took out his student ID.

"Gustav Griswald," he began. "You are under arrest."

Gus did a double take. Under arrest? He hadn't done anything.

"You have the right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed to you. Do you understand these rights?"

"I-I-didn't do anything!" he stammered.

"I'll take that as a yes," the cop said sharply, grabbing his by his collar. "Let's go."

Gus looked around at the bodies and then at the gun he had just placed down.

No…they didn't think…they wouldn't…

"I didn't do anything!" he yelled again, tears forming in his eyes. "Please, I didn't do anything!"


	4. Chapter 4

Spinelli watched as her friend, Glenn, was loaded into the ambulance. Glenn hadn't been shot, thankfully, but she had broken her leg running out of the cafeteria with the mob of students. When the ambulance doors slammed shut and the vehicle began its sirens as it drove away from the school, Spinelli stuffed her fists in the pockets of her jacket and shuffled back to the flagpole.

She didn't know what to do with herself. She saw students all around her; crying, dazed, and like her, wandering.

"Spinelli!" her other friend, Joe, called, running over to her. "How's Glenn?"

"She's fine, she just needs a cast."

"That's a relief," Joe sighed. "I-I don't know if you want to hear this, but I passed an officer a minute ago and he told he the death toll was up to-"

"Don't," Spinelli muttered. "Just don't."

Her and Joe stood in silence, watching the other students at the flagpole talk amongst themselves. As she leaned back against the nearby fence, she caught wind of two girls' conversation.

"Just heard it from Gabriel."

"Griswald? Gus Griswald? Francis's friend?"

"He's just been arrested-"

Spinelli's head shot up. "Hey!" she said, walking over to the girls. "What were you saying about Gus? Was he hurt or something?"

The two girls exchanged glances. "No," one said. "He-He was a second shooter."

Spinelli took a step back. "You sure?"

"Heard it from Jack and Gabriel," the other girl said. "And they heard it from two cops."

"You-You've had to have heard it wrong," Spinelli said. "Gus couldn't have been a shooter."

The girls shrugged their shoulders. "I guess we'll see."

"I can't believe that," Joe said as him and Spinelli walked away from the girls. "That kid was always so…quiet. I know he was friends with Francis but-"

"He _didn't_ do it," Spinelli snapped.

"Why are you so sure?" Joe frowned. "What do you even know about that kid? You've never talked to him."

Spinelli sighed. Joe and her became friends towards the end of middle school, long after her and Gus and all the others stopped talking. She had never told her new friends about the former gang.

"You're right," Spinelli finally said. "I don't really know him."

"Pookie!"

Spinelli turned around to see both her parents running over to her. For once in her life, Spinelli wasn't embarrassed to see them. In fact, she felt relieved.

"Thank goodness you're alright," Flo said, hugging her daughter tightly.

"We saw on the news..." Bob said. "Ran right over."

"I'm fine, I can't breathe, mom," Spinelli gasped.

"Sorry." Flo released her.

"Guys, can we go?" she asked her parents. "I think I've really got to get out of here."

…..

Spinelli leaned against her beat-up pick-up truck that was parked in her driveway. It was dark now, and the streetlights had just gone on. She just wanted today to be over. When she had gone to bed the night before, everything was normal. Now, though, less than twenty-four hours later, everything was a mess.

Suddenly, a soccer ball rolled into her driveway. Spinelli looked up and saw that it came from T.J.'s place three houses down.

"Um, sorry," T.J. said, jogging over to retrieve his ball.

"It's fine," Spinelli shrugged.

"What-what're you doing out here?" T.J. asked, picking up the soccer ball.

"Just thinking about, well, you know."

"Yeah," he nodded. "I had to get out too…it's on the news right now and I-I couldn't watch it."

"That's why I'm out here too," Spinelli said. "I still can't believe it happened."

"You know Mikey and Gretchen got-"

"I know," she said heavily.

"I know Mikey's alright," T.J. continued. "But I don't know how Gretchen-"

"Gretchen's alive," Spinelli said. "I went to visit my friend Glenn in the hospital and I saw her. She's going to be there for awhile; she got shot in the stomach, but she's alive."

T.J. let out a sigh of relief.

Spinelli took a deep breath. "Did you also hear about Gus?"

T.J. shook his head. "It can't be true, can it? It's Gus."

"The police found him with a gun in his hand and four dead bodies around him," Spinelli told him.

T.J. looked at the ground. "Maybe he was just in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"With a gun?"

T.J. didn't reply.

"You haven't talked to Gus in years," Spinelli said. "None of us have talked to each other in years. Do you really still think you know him? Do any of us really know each other?"

Spinelli zipped up her jacket. "It's getting cold. I'm heading in. I'll see you around I guess."

She retreated back into her house.


	5. Chapter 5

Mikey winced as he moved his heavily bandaged arm.

"You'll certainly be sore for some time," his doctor said. "I'm going to prescribe you some pain medication that will hopefully keep you comfortable."

"Thanks," Mikey's mother said, placing a hand on her son's shoulder. "So is he clear to go?"

"We just want to run a few more tests to check for infections," the doctor replied. "They shouldn't take more than two or three hours, then he can go."

Mikey watched as the doctor pulled back the curtain around his hospital bed. He didn't get his own room; so many students had to be rushed to the hospital that the medical staff had to resort to treating whatever patients they could in the halls so the rooms would be open for the more critical ones.

"Oh, I should've never sent you to school today," Mrs. Blumburg sobbed, sinking down at the edge of Mikey's bed. "I'm your mother! I should've seen this coming!"

"Mom, please don't be upset," Mikey said. "No one could've predicted this. And I'm fine; I was one of the-one of the lucky ones."

"Yes, yes, you're right," she sniffed. "I just can't believe I wasn't there when you were hurt."

"You're here now, though," he reminded her.

"Of course I am. And your father will be here just as soon as he can; you know his office is an hour away."

"I know," he nodded.

Mrs. Blumburg got off the bed. "I'm going to use the ladies room and clean myself up," she told her son. "I'll be right back."

She opened the curtain and headed off towards the restroom. Mikey wished she would've closed the curtain, though. The hospital was abuzz with parents and students and doctors and nurses. Mikey heaved himself up and grabbed the end of the curtain to close back around his bed. He froze, though, at the sight of a woman, sobbing hysterically, as nurses tried to calm her down. He recognized that woman. He had only seen her once or twice and had never spoken to her or gave her a second glance, but he knew that was Lawson's mother.

He felt his stomach tighten. Lawson, the former bully of Third Street Elementary, had straightened out over the years. He didn't pick on kids anymore, and had become involved in student government and the swim team. He was a senior and was thrilled when he got his acceptance letter to Arkansas State University. The university he would never get to go to now.

Mikey stared at the scene; it had to be a nightmare. This didn't happen. He didn't get shot; the innocent lives of his classmates didn't end unjustly. Soon he would wake up to his alarm going off and he would head off to school where everything would be normal, just as it should. He snapped out of his daze, though, as two doctors hurried by him.

"Bring three units of blood up to Albuster in room 6 of the ICU," one said.

"Grundler needs two as well," the other said. "She lost too much blood to go into surgery right now."

"Already paged Dr. Nealson about that. He's on his way."

Mikey sat back down on the bed. Gretchen needed surgery? How badly had she been hurt?

Just then, he heard the pounding of heavy soled boots walking along the tiled floor. He looked up and saw Spinelli with a basket of treats she probably bought at the hospital gift shop.

For a second, the two looked at each other, and for a wild second, Mikey thought she was here to see him. But then the second passed and Spinelli broke the gaze. She walked over to the bed next to his, opened the curtains to reveal her friend, Glenn, and handed her the basket.

Mikey tried not to feel let down. Why would she have been there to see him? They weren't friends, were they? No. They haven't been in years. He yanked the curtains back around his bed and laid down, staring at the ceiling.

….

Once Mikey's wound had been clear of infections, he was released from the hospital and allowed to go home. He had just gotten back up to his room, where he was about to collapse into his warm bed when his mother knocked on his door.

"Sweetie," she said softly "I know you're tired, but there's some police officers downstairs that want to ask you a few questions."

"Oh," he yawned.

"If you're not up for it tonight, I'll tell them to come back some other time," she said quickly. "In fact, maybe that's best…"

"No," Mikey said quickly. "I'll just talk to them now."

"I'm going to stay with you the whole time," she said, following him downstairs to the living room, where the two officers sat with his father.

"Mr. Blumburg," one of the officers said, standing up to shake Mikey's hand. "I'm officer James, this is my partner officer Benson."

"Hello," Mikey said, shaking his hand. "What can I do for you?"

"We just want to ask you a few questions. If you'd like, we can come back at a different time if this is too soon for-"

"Ask away," I told them, sitting down across from them.

"Alright," the officer said. "You were shot running out of the cafeteria into the side hallway, right?"

He nodded.

"By Francis Abrams?"

"I didn't know who was shooting at the time, but I found out later that he was the shooter, so yes."

"Mr. Blumburg," he said heavily. "There were two shooters today. One of them still very much alive and in custody right now. He was found with a gun in the hallway where you were shot. Now, I realize this is hard for you, but can you remember seeing your shooters face at all before you were hit?"

Mikey shook his head. "The bullet hit the back of my arm; I never saw him. After I fell, all I remember seeing from the floor was a pair of dark green combat boots running after a girl in flip-flops…She fell next to me…dead."

"Yes," the officer sighed. "That was Jenny Hyat. Medics said she was dead before she hit the ground. She didn't feel a thing."

Mikey didn't say anything. He was still trying to get that image out of his head. Jenny Hyat was the name of the girl who used to be known only as The Library Kid…He had played with her that one afternoon at recess seven years ago…

"The combat boots you were talking about," the other officer said, bringing his attention back towards him as he handed him a picture. "Are these them?"

He nodded. "Yeah. I know Hustler Kid-I mean, Francis, wore them a lot. He-He said that they were easy to smuggle things in."

The cops exchanged glances. "Francis was wearing sneakers today," they told him.

Mikey blinked. "Oh. Well then I guess it was just another student running-"

"These boots were worn by the second shooter," the first officer said.

Mikey took a deep breath. "Who-Who was that?"

"A friend of Francis's," he told him. "Did you know Gustav Griswald?"

Mikey's blood froze.

"Griswald?" his mother frowned, standing up. "Isn't that the name of the boy you used to be friends with in elementary school?"

Mikey slowly nodded. "That can't be right."

"Son, I know it's difficult but-"

"You're wrong!"

The officers looked taken aback. Mikey never rose his voice. But now, it was filled with furry. How dare these officers come into his home and accuse Gus of something like this? Him and Gus didn't talk anymore, but that didn't change the fact that him and Gus used to be best friends. Gus wasn't capable of this.

"He was apprehended with a gun in his hand," officer James told him calmly. "That gun is currently being tested against the bullets from the four bodies found with him."

"They won't match," Mikey said, crossing his arms.

"Mikey, please don't raise your voice," his mother said shakily, and Mikey instantly felt bad for upsetting her even more.

"Ma'm, I'm sorry we've intruded," Officer Benson said, standing up.

"It's not that," she said, wiping her eyes. "I-I knew Gus. I drove him home for school. He stayed here for a long weekend. And now I find out he-he did this to my son and all those poor children…"

"He didn't," Mikey whispered.

"We've asked all the questions we needed," Officer James said. "We're sorry we had to meet under these circumstances. If you can think of anything else you'd like to tell us, just give us a call."

Mikey didn't respond. Once the officers let themselves out, he stood up. "I'm going to bed," he announced.

"I'll bring you some warm milk," his mother said, wiping her eyes. "That always used to help you fall asleep."

"Thanks, mom, but I think I can fall asleep just fine," Mikey said graciously. He climbed back up to his room. He made sure the door was firmly closed before he collapsed onto his bed, sobbing uncontrollably.


	6. Chapter 6

"You're lucky," the doctor told Gretchen as she slowly woke up after her surgery. "A few more centimeters to the right and the bullet would've completely destroyed your stomach and we wouldn't be having this conversation.

Gretchen blinked as the events that had placed her here slowly swam back into her brain. She looked over and saw her parents sitting by her bedside.

"So…I'm going to be alright?" she asked.

"Thankfully, yes," the doctor replied. "You're going to have to stay here for quite some time, though. You lost a lot of blood, and we want to make sure your body recovers properly and that you're clear of infections."

Gretchen frowned. "What about school?"

The doctor looked surprised. "We usually don't see people who just took a bullet to the stomach eager to get back to work."

"I-I really like school," she said, fiddling with the hospital bracelet on her wrist.

"The school is going to be closed at least for the next two weeks," the doctor told her.

She nodded. Well, at least she wouldn't get too behind then.

School was her life, after all; the one place where she excelled. Some kids had the court, others had the party scenes; she had the classroom. Of course, the school she had once felt was the safest place she could go had turned into a death range in a matter of minutes, so what _did_ she have anymore?

"Well, Gretchen, I'm going to have to take off," her mother said, getting up from her bedside.

"You-You're not going to stay?" Gretchen asked.

"Can't. You know I'm the head of the new microorganism research project at the lab," she said, grabbing her purse. "Are you coming, dear?"

"Yes," Gretchen's father nodded, standing up as well. "I left right in the middle my new laser's first test run."

Gretchen tried not to feel too disappointed. Her parent's practically lived at their jobs, after all. She had been surprised to see them at her bedside at all.

"We'll stop by with your laptop and some of your textbooks later on tonight," her mother assured her. "Try to get some rest now."

Gretchen nodded. "Okay."

Once her parents left, she turned on the television that hung on the wall across from her bed. The five o'clock news flashed on the screen, a picture of the high school shown behind the reporter's head.

"Tragedy struck Third Street High School today," the reporter said. "A massive shooting that took the lives of twelve students and two teachers and injured twenty-two others took place there today at approximately eleven fourteen in the morning."

Gretchen didn't know whether to change the channel or sit there and relive the horror she had just experienced.

"Two shooters are thought to be responsible for this horrific event," the reporter continued, and Gretchen found her eyes glued to the screen. Who could've possible done this? Did she know them?

"Francis Abrams was approached by police upon their arrival," the reporter said. "They surrounded him and ordered him to put down his weapon, but Abrams took his own life instead."

Gretchen couldn't believe it. Hustler Kid? Of course, he hadn't gone by that name in years, ever since he entered middle school, but that was how she remembered him…She never spoke with him in high school, but she remembered interacting with him in elementary school. How could someone you once knew turn into such a monster?

"The second shooter is currently in custody and being questioned by authorities," the reporter went on. "Police have released his name as Gustav Griswald, a junior from the high school and-"

Gretchen dropped the remote. Gus? If the news of Hustler Kid had been a surprise to her, this was the shock of a lifetime. Maybe she misheard the reporter…

"Griswald was apprehended with a weapon in his possession," the reporter said as Gus's yearbook picture flashed onto the screen. "Witnesses say that Griswald and Abrams were good friends in school. No further information had been released concerning Griswald, but Channel Six News will keep you posted on any further details concerning this shooting. Now over to Tyra with the weather."

Gretchen clicked the T.V. off. She felt like she was going to be sick.

…

Gus struggled to keep his eyes open. He had been in this small room for nearly twelve hours. He was tired. He was confused, and he was hungry. All he wanted was to go home to his warm bed and pretend like this had never happened.

He wasn't allowed to see his parents. Officers had been coming in out of the room all day, questioning him. He gave them the same answers over and over again, but that never seemed to satisfy them.

Just then, the door opened again and a detective wearing a collared shirt and Levis came in.

"Here," he said, tossing Gus a bag with a musty looking sandwich and stale bag of chips. Gus was so hungry that he dug right in.

"So," the detective said. "I'm Detective Horton. All the officers have told me that you keep insisting that you're innocent."

"Because I am," Gus said.

"Right," the detective said in a tone that Gus knew meant he didn't believe him in the slightest. "So you just happened to have a gun in a hallway where four students were killed and two were injured?"

Gus opened his mouth, but Detective Horton cut him off. "You and your buddy Abrams killed fourteen people," he said, narrowing his eyes. "Twelve students and two teachers. Are you happy?"

"No, of course not!" Gus cried. "But I didn't-"

"Each one of those innocent people," the detective continued, standing up. "Was someone's child. Someone's friend. Someone's brother or sister. And now every one of them is gone."

"I didn't do it," Gus sobbed. "Please, just let me-"

"Why are you crying?" the detective yelled. "You didn't lose anyone today, unless you count the lowlife piece of filth you called your pal, Francis! You caused all of this! So many people are going to bed missing someone they love because of you, and you think you have the right to cry?"

Gus's shoulders continued to shake in silent wails.

"Get a lawyer," the detective said, disgusted as he headed out the door. "You're going to need one."


	7. Chapter 7

T.J. stood in front of the high school. The parking lot was empty, except for the trucks of the builders who were working to repair the damage inside the school.

Against the gate that separated the school from the main road were fourteen picket crosses. T.J. walked along the line of them, reading each name.

_Gregory Lawson_…He had just been accepted to college on a swimming scholarship…

_Ashley Albuster_…She died on the operating table after being shot in the chest…She had been the queen bee of the school…

_Gordy Smith_…the one kid who didn't like T.J. back in fourth grade…he still wasn't fond of T.J., but T.J. still couldn't help the pang of sadness that swelled up inside him.

_Megan Polk_…her and T.J. had gone to homecoming last year…

_Nancy Ortega_…she used to be known only as Swinger Girl. She actually did manage to swing over the bar at the end of sixth grade, and had then focused all her energy on becoming a pilot…

_Theresa Golding_…the former Cornchip Girl. She was only a freshman and still carried the innocence she did back at Third Street Elementary…

_Colleen Murphy_…she was another freshman, and T.J. knew that Vince was dating her sister, Amanda…

_Chris Phillips_…he was the captain of the football team. He had been dating Ashley A…T.J. barely talked to him, but he knew that Chris used to bully kids left and right. T.J. tried to ignore it, but watching Chris torment kids everyday made him hate the boy, but that didn't stop T.J.'s eyes from watering as he passed his cross…

_Jenny Hyat_…she used to be the quiet little girl who was too scared to venture out of the library. As she got older, she finally managed to step outside the library without being afraid or going wild as she had done seven years ago. Having read all those books at such an early age, she was exceptionally bright, and in fact, the only student in the class smarter than she was Gretchen. T.J. knew Gretchen was friends with Jenny; he wondered if she knew yet…

_Frederick Gable_…he was king of the playground right after King Bob left. T.J. didn't really know him, but he knew that he used to be president of the Audio/Visual club…

_Ramshawl Gutav…_back in elementary school he was the self-proclaimed Guru kid, spouting words of wisdom to all. In high school he still enjoyed doing just that, and was a writer for the school newspaper where he wrote an advice column…

_Butch Jacobson_…the school gossip. T.J. remembered all the wild stories he used to tell. He smiled as he remembered back to fourth grade when he warned him and his friends that one day they would actually _like_ kissing girls. Him and Spinelli had went through that "experiment" to try to prove him wrong…

He walked over to the two crosses that adorned the photos of teachers.

He had had both of them.

The first one was Darlene Flax. She was his English teacher freshman year. She then taught the upper level classes and had been going to school to get her doctorate.

The second one was Sylvester Dudicus, aka, The Dude. Yes, the famous sub T.J. once had in fourth grade finally became a full-fledged teacher. He had been T.J.'s current Physics teacher, and under his watchful eye, T.J. managed B's in a class he was sure he would fail.

T.J. wiped his eyes and took out a bushel of roses he picked up at the market on his way over and laid one at every cross. He then walked over to his bike. He used to own a 1960's convertible he had purchased with his own money, but it was destroyed from the car bomb Francis had detonated in the parking lot right before he began shooting. He strapped on his helmet and pedaled away from the school.

…

Vince found himself dragging his feet around the town, not heading anywhere. It had been three days since the shooting. Tomorrow he would be attending his first of many funerals. This one would be for Ashley A. As a jock, and one of the most popular kids in the school, his friends knew the Ashley's very well. Even though him and the girls had been sworn enemies back in elementary school, he knew that he was expected to be friends with people like them, so he simply put all that behind him and plastered on a fake smile when he was with them, pretending to laugh at their cruel jokes about students who were "socially beneath them".

The next day he would attend Colleen's funeral. He had only spoken to Amanda once since the shooting, when she sobbed to him that her little sister was dead. Vince had done his best to comfort him, but Amanda had insisted he let her be and had resorted to closing herself off in her room.

Chris and Megan's funerals were the day after. Chris's would be in the morning, and Megan's the afternoon.

Those four funerals were the only ones he was expected to attend. They were the only ones who had been in his social circle, after all, and they were the only ones the rest of his friends were going to. Vince had a feeling he would somehow find his way to everyone's, though. He didn't understand why these social parameters were still being upheld, even after all that had happened. Everyone who died had been a member of the same school he went to. They were all people, and would all be missed. Why did it mater whether they were popular or not?

But of course, he couldn't say this, because if he did, he'd be out, and he didn't know if he could take that or not.


	8. Chapter 8

T.J. struggled to keep his eyes open as he poured himself a bowl of cereal. He hadn't been sleeping well since the shooting.

"Morning, sweetie," his mother said, walking into the kitchen. "Why aren't you eating? Aren't you hungry?"

"Just tired," T.J. sighed. "I didn't sleep well last night."

"I understand," his mother nodded sympathetically.

Yesterday he had gone to Megan Polk's funeral. Him and Megan had been distant friends, at best, but the two had gone to homecoming together.

He had gone to every funeral held, so far, and even though it had been more than depressing, he felt like it was really the right thing to do.

He saw Vince at every one, too, which surprised him, since more than half of the students hadn't been on his social level. He saw Mikey at every one as well, but that didn't faze him. Mikey was a bleeding heart; he would've gone to the funerals even if he had no idea who the student had been.

The three former friends didn't make any contact at the funerals. It was just like at school; they pretended they notice each other; it was easier that way.

"We need milk," his mother commented, opening the fridge. "I should run to the store…T.J., are you okay being left alone?"

"I've stayed by myself pretty much everyday, mom," T.J. reminded her. His parents didn't get home from work until two hours after he would get home from school. T.J. knew why his mother was acting so concerned, though. She was worried he still hadn't recovered mentally from the shooting. He appreciated this gesture; it made him feel, well, loved.

"I know," his mom nodded. "Well, alright. I shouldn't be gone more than half-an-hour. I have my cell if you need me."

Once his mother left, T.J. dumped his cereal in the trash; he didn't have much of an appetite. He sat down on the couch and flicked on the T.V. Much to his dismay, the only thing that came on was the news.

"In news of the Third Street High School massacre," the newscaster said. "Police have reported that the accused second shooter, Gustav Griswald's, arraignment is to be held later this afternoon at 4 o'clock at the city courthouse."

T.J. shook his head and turned the television off. He couldn't get it through his head that Gus would do something like this…It was Gus. But like Spinelli had said, did he even really know him anymore? Was the sixteen year-old Gus Griswald still the same innocent boy he had been in elementary school?

…

"Let's go over your case one more time," Gus's lawyer, a young man who looked fresh out of law school, Jerome Baker, said, opening his briefcase. "At today's arraignment, we'll voice our claim of 'not guilty'. There will be no jury; that's for your actual trial, which should start in within the next month. Now normally, we'd have a chance for you to get out on bail, but under the circumstances of your arrest, that's out of the picture. Any questions?"

"Yeah," Gus said. "When do I get to actually tell you what happened?"

"All I need to know is that you want to claim innocence," Jerome said. "If you tell me something that counters that, I'm obligated to tell the prosecution as well; I can't knowingly let you lie on the stand."

"So basically," Gus frowned. "You don't care if I _do_ lie. You just can't know about it?"

"We're on the same team here, Gus," Jerome sighed. "We both want you to get off with the best possible deal. I really don't think we need to start butting heads right now."

Gus sighed. The police wouldn't listen and now even his own lawyer wouldn't listen.

"When can I see my parents?"

"They'll be at the arraignment," Jerome said, shutting his briefcase. "Which starts in four hours. I'll be back here at three sharp."

Without even a goodbye, Jerome signaled the guard that his visit was done and headed out of the cell.

Gus put his head in his hands. He had done the right thing; why was he being punished?

…

Vince didn't know why he was here. Maybe it was because deep down, he knew it couldn't be true…

He stood in front the courthouse where Gus's arraignment was going to be held. It was packed; it seemed like the whole town had come to see the beginning of what was sure to be a long, lengthy process.

He slowly made his way up the marble steps. When he entered the courthouse, it looked like the arraignment was about to get started.

"Right here," the court officer said to Vince, signaling for him to take one of the last available seats in the courtroom. Vince complied and slid all the way down the wooden bench. He looked to see whom he was sitting next to, and was startled to see T.J..

"Um, hey," T.J. said awkwardly.

"Hey," Vince replied.

The two boys were silent for a moment, and then Vince took a deep breath. "You don't think he did it, do you?"

"They found him with a gun in a hallway with four dead bodies," T.J. said, not looking at Vince as he talked.

"Yeah, but it's Gus," Vince pointed out.

"So?" T.J. said. "Look, I know he used to be our friend, but that was years ago. He's changed. We all have."

Vince didn't reply. He looked around the courtroom. He saw the parents of the students who lost their lives, newscasters, and sitting right up front, he spotted Mikey. He didn't point this out to T.J. He also saw Spinelli, sitting in the last bench on the other side of the courtroom. Her arms were crossed and she looked like she was off in her own world.

"Do you know when they're going to open the school again?" T.J. asked, trying to break the tension between the two.

"It's going to be closed for awhile, from what I've heard," he said. "My buddy Rick said they're trying to find a place to use as a temporary school for us."

"Well, that's good," T.J. said.

"All rise for the Honorable Judge Schutt!"

The boys got to their feet as a woman donning long black robes took her seat in the judge's chair. Once the court returned to their seats, Vince saw for the first time, Gus, who was sitting in front of the wooden benches, talking with a man who he assumed was his lawyer. He was wearing a bulletproof vest.

"Will the defense rise?" barked Judge Schutt.

Gus and his lawyer got to their feet.

"On the counts of four charges of first degree murder, how do you plead?"

"We plea not guilty, Your Honor," the lawyer answered.

Gasps broke out among the courtroom.

"Liar!" yelled one woman, standing up. Vince recognized her as Ashley A's mother. "He did it! He's guilty! He should be in the ground, rotting, just like my baby!"

"Order!" the judge said. "Ma'm, you must control your outburst or I'll have you removed from my court."

Reluctantly, Ashley's mom sat down.

"No bail is available due to the nature of the accused charges," the judge continued. "Trial will begin in one month on the first of February. Court is adjourned."

Vince frowned. That seemed uneventful.

"He's pleading innocent?" T.J. said to no one in particular, standing up.

Vince shrugged. "I'll see you around," he muttered, and headed out of the courtroom, not looking back.

…..

Gretchen clicked off the T.V. She had been watching a live stream of the arraignment. Gus was pleading innocence? Did that mean he really _was_ innocent? Or that he just wanted to get off scotch free?

She grimaced as she struggled to sit up; her gut still hurt from the shooting. She looked at the untouched books by her bedside. For the first time in her life, they did not appeal to her. She had lost one of her close friends, Jenny Hyat, and now Gus's trial was officially on its way. What answers could books have for the questions swimming around in her head? At least she would be going home at the end of the next week. She hated being in the hospital. Fourteen had died in the shooting, but nearly two dozen had injuries. She hated seeing faces she knew pass her door; she saw Randlle Wheems, the former class snitch, walking with the aid of two nurses as he tried to get used to the fake leg that had to replace his real one; Sam Higgens, one of the ex-diggers being wheeled past in his wheelchair as doctors said he would never regain a mental capacity past that of a two year olds' again. At least at home she wouldn't have constant reminders of the terror that uprooted the entire town.


	9. Chapter 9

Normally, a three-week vacation from school would've sat very well with Spinelli. Now, though, that it was happening under such circumstances, she felt she would've given almost anything to be back in Third Street High School.

Spinelli sat on her bed, her sketchpad propped up against her knees as she worked on the piece that she would have been entering in the school's art fair. It was a safe bet, though, that that event was going to be called off. She grunted in frustration, trying to figure out exactly what she could add to her painting to give it that something extra. She decided she needed a break. Tossing her sketchpad and pencil aside, she got off her bed and walked over to the window.

It was a beautiful day out. Not so cold that you were miserable, but not warm enough to forget the fact that it was still winter.

She looked over a few houses and saw T.J. helping his dad paint his garage. She let herself stare. Sometimes she still couldn't believe that him and her were no longer friends. She always thought they were a little closer than the rest of the group. Sure, Vince had been his best guy friend, just like Gretchen had been her best girl friend, but she believed that they had a, for lack of a better phrase, special bond together. Yet here they were; neighbors, but behaved as they were complete strangers.

After the gang's breakup in middle school, Spinelli used to contemplate walking over to T.J.'s house sometimes. She'd been to his house millions of times. They used to have sleepovers there and camp out in his old tree house. But something had always held her back. And then she would see his new friends come over, laughing and goofing off, and she would have to pretend she didn't care about him.

"Pookie," Spinelli's mom said, walking into the room.

"Knock much?" she snapped.

"Sorry, sweetie, you know I always forget," Flo said. "Have you been working on one of your pictures again? Can I see?"

"It's not done," she mumbled. "Do you _want_ something?"

"The school just left a message on the machine," she told her daughter. "The campus is still under repair, but they really need to start up classes again, so you'll be going to another school until the yours is fixed."

"Joy," Spinelli said flatly. "What school is it?"

"The elementary school just a few blocks away," Flo said. "That'll be convenient, won't it? Starting Monday, the high school students will be going there from four to ten every afternoon."

"Third Street Elementary?" Spinelli repeated.

"That's the one. Won't that be exciting? Going back to your old elementary school?"

"Thrilling," Spinelli said. "Mom, not to be rude or anything, but I kind of want to get back to my sketch, and you're running my creative vibes."

"You artists," Flo laughed. "Well, have fun, sweetie. I'm going to head off to the market with your father. You want anything?"

"Nah. I'm good."

"Call if you need anything!"

Spinelli went back to her bed, but didn't touch her sketchbook. She was going back to Third Street Elementary School? That was something she never expected to do. Once she left there on the last day of sixth grade, she figured she would never step foot there again.

_Five Years Ago_

"Man, can you believe it," Vince said, as him, Gus, Mikey, Spinelli, Gretchen and T.J. walked away from Third Street Elementary School after the final bell on their last day of sixth grade. "It's done. Just like that."

"This year flew by," Gus said. "It seems like only yesterday we were just getting used to being the 'big kids of the playground'."

"Well, that's essentially what Einstein's Theory of Relativity addresses," Gretchen said. "But yes, it does feel like this year went by far quicker than all the others."

"Ah, the cruel trick of time," Mikey sighed.

"Oh come on," Spinelli said, rolling her eyes. "We've been dreaming of this moment since kindergarten. We're in middle school now! They have better field trips, better lunches, a better gym-"

"Harder work, meaner teachers-" Vince pointed out.

"And no recess," T.J. spoke up.

"That's right," Gretchen nodded sadly. "The School Board only permits a recreational period for grades K-6."

"We still have P.E. though," Vince reminded them.

"That's not the same," T.J. said. "We'll have some middle-aged coach yelling at us to run laps or climb a rope. We won't have the freedom of recess."

The gang was silent.

"Well," Gus said after a moment. "At least we'll all still have each other."

"Jeesh, Gus, what is this?" Spinelli said. "Some sort of after-school special?"

"I think it's a lovely thought," Mikey defended.

"I'm serious," Gus said. "Whenever I used to have to start a new school, the worst thing about it was knowing I would have no friends. I didn't even care about going from a school that served burgers and fries to a school that served all organic food, or from a school that was six hours a day to a school that was seven, or even a school that had an hour long recess to one that only had a fifteen minute indoor recess. But now, for the first time in my life, I'm going to a new school and I don't have to worry about that! I've got the five best friends any kid could ask for."

"You know what, Gus," T.J. grinned, adjusting his red baseball cap. "You're right. We'll be fine in middle school, even though there's no recess."

"Still, though," Vince said, nostalgically looking back at the playground. "I'm going to miss it."

"What do you say we have one last look around?" Mikey suggested. "Just to say goodbye."

The others nodded in agreement.

They walked around Old Rusty, through the kickball field, between the wall ball walls and past the tetherball poles. Finally, they sat down in a patch of grass.

"We've really had some great times here," T.J. said.

"Yeah," Spinelli agreed.

"You know," T.J. said. "I think we should make a sort of Time Capsule. I saw it on T.V. last night. These people all left something of their own and buried it to be found years later."

"That's not a bad idea," Vince nodded. "Only why don't _we_ unbury in a few years?"

"Us?" Gretchen frowned.

"Sure," he nodded.

"We can unbury it and relive our old Third Street Elementary days!" Mikey exclaimed. "Wonderful idea, Vince."

"Yeah," T.J. nodded. He looked around. "Look, there's a half-dug hole the Diggers left. We can use that."

The gang gathered around the hole.

"So who's first?" Spinelli asked.

"I'll go," Mikey offered. He rummaged in his backpack and pulled out a package of Winger Dingers. "My favorite treat."

"You sure you want to give that up, Big Guy?" T.J. asked. "You know they're discontinuing them. Soon you won't be able to buy them in stores anymore."

"I know," he nodded, dropping the cake treat into the hole. "But when I look back on these days, I'll be able to remember my favorite desert."

"I'll go next," Gus said. He pulled out a Beanie McChimp comic from his bag. "So I'll remember my favorite cartoon."

"I can't believe you still watch that," Spinelli said.

"Hey, you used to love it," Gus reminded her. "Besides. I stopped watching it last month."

"Your turn, Vince," T.J. said.

"I'm putting this in," Vince said, reaching into his unusually stuffed backpack. He pulled out a kickball.

"I was wondering why your bag was so big on the last day of school," Gretchen said.

"This is the ball I kicked on the roof two years ago during that game against Lawson and his pals; Principal Prickley gave it back to me today." he explained. "It was a tied game and we were worried we were going to lose to him for the first time."

"That was a great game," T.J. grinned. "Our old buddy Vince came to the rescue; as usual."

"Couldn't have done it without you guys cheering me on," Vince said modestly, tossing in the ball. "Alright, Gretch. What do you have?"

Gretchen pulled out her hand-held computer device, Galileo.

"Galileo?" Gus exclaimed. "You love that thing!"

"Indeed I do, Gus," she said. "But I need to learn to get along without him; how odd would it look if I still had him in college?"

"Good point."

Gretchen gently placed Galileo in with the other objects.

"Alright, let me get this over with," Spinelli said. She sat down and tugged one of her boots off.

"Um, you're putting in a shoe?" T.J. asked.

"Yeah, so I'll remember how tough I was even as a kid," Spinelli said.

"You do realize you still have to walk home," Vince said.

"So? I have socks on."

"I guess that leaves me," T.J. said. He stood still for a minute, and then swiftly took off his signature red baseball cap and placed it in the hole. The gang gasped.

"Teje, you can't give that up!" Spinelli said.

"It's your trademark!" Gretchen claimed.

"Yeah, you haven't taken it off in years!" Gus agreed.

"It had to come off at some point," T.J. said sadly. "And I'd rather have it safe here than gathering dust in the back of my closet."

"I don't think I could ever do that," Vince said.

"Let's burry it up," T.J. said.

Without a word, the gang covered up their prized possessions until it you could never tell the ground had been disturbed.

"I think we should make one agreement," T.J. said. "Whenever we do come back here to dig these things back up, we have to be together."

"Come on, T.J. , it's us," Vince laughed. "You really think we'll ever _not_ be together?"

"I know, I know," T.J. said. "But let's just agree anyway."

They all nodded.

"Good," T.J. said. "Now why don't we head over to Kelso's?"

"Sounds good to me," Spinelli said. "Last one there buys!"

The six kids set off, laughing and carefree.


	10. Chapter 10

"So, did you hear?" Sebastian asked T.J. as him and Steve sat at fast food restaurant, munching on burgers. "We're gonna be going back to school next week."

"Yeah," T.J. nodded. "The old elementary school."

"How are they gonna fit everyone in there?" Steve frowned. "It's a lot smaller than the high school was."

"More people in a class, I guess," T.J. shrugged. "Did you guys go to that place when you were kids?"

"Nah, private school, man," Steve said.

"Same," Sebastian nodded. "Did you?"

"Um, yeah, actually, I did," T.J. said.

"At least we'll get the morning to sleep in," Steve said. "The little kids are going in the morning."

Suddenly the door to the restaurant dinged as Mikey walked in.

"Wow, so I guess this is where he gets all that extra fat from," Steve laughed, watching Mikey go up to the counter to place his order. "Man, that guy is so fat!"

"Guess that helped him after he got shot," Sebastian snickered. "All that extra blubber in his arm probably softened the blow."

T.J. felt his fist clench slightly under the table, but he didn't say anything.

"Yo, Blumberger!" Steve yelled, standing up. "Sure the seats here are big enough for you? I think they have a 400 pound weight limit."

Sebastian laughed and stood up with his friend. "You want to know why it's taking them so long to reopen the high school? When Blumberg fell he took up all the tiles on the floor!"

T.J. sneaked a look at Mikey. He was pretending not to hear the jeers, but T.J. saw his eyes, and knew he was trying to keep it together.

"Guys, knock it off," T.J. mumbled.

"Come on, he knows he's fat T.J.," Steve said. "We're just pointing out what everyone knows."

"Fine, we'll humor you," Sebastian said. "Yo Mikey, we were just joking. You're really thin as a rail!"

Mikey grabbed his food, tossed down a few bills and ran out the door. As he ran past the boys' table, though, he looked right at T.J..

"Man, let's get out of here," Steve said, finishing the last of his root beer. "I just rented some movie with a hot blonde on the cover and my dad has some beers in the fridge."

"Sweet," Sebastian said, throwing out his wrappers. "You in, T.J.?"

T.J. shook his head. "No. My sister's in town and I promised her I'd help her look for an anniversary present for our parents."

"Whatever," Steve shrugged. "Come over if you decide you want some fun."

T.J. waited until he saw the boys get into Steve's car before he left. His sister wouldn't be home for another two weeks, and his parents' anniversary had been last month. He just didn't want to spend another minute with those two right now.

He walked over to the park across from the restaurant and hang out there for awhile. He walked around the playgrounds and the baseball field until he reached a secluded area surrounded by trees. He sat down at the base of a particularly thick tree and looked up at the sky. He heard something from the other side of the tree, though, and when he peered around the trunk, he saw none other than Mikey. He was sitting his head in his knees and shoulders shaking, his bag of food untouched at his feet.

Mikey didn't see him. T.J. contemplated whether to approach his crying former friend. But what could he way? Sure, he hadn't said anything about Mikey like Steve and Sebastian did, but he didn't exactly defend Mikey either. And besides, he was guilty just by association.

T.J. turned back around to his side of the tree and tried to ignore the sobs he heard.

…

At last, Gretchen was able to leave the hospital and go home. She was put on some pain medication and told to refrain from any heavy activity, but otherwise cleared as fully recovered. She still grimaced when she walked from the pain in her abdomen, but in her mind that was a small price to pay to finally be released.

School would be starting in three days, and for the first time she could remember, she wasn't looking forward to going back.

"Gretchen, we're going to the office!" her mother called from the kitchen. "I left some frozen dinners in the freezer for you."

"Okay," Gretchen responded from her bedroom. She watched from her window as she was her parents' cars leave the driveway. She picked up her AP Physics textbook from her bedside table and began reviewing. Physics was her strongest subject; anything math or science was, actually. She obviously still excelled at English and History and every other class she took, but she liked the practicality of numbers and formulas.

About an hour after her parents left, there was a knock at her front door. Closing her textbook, she slowly got up and made her way to answer it.

"Oh, hi," Gretchen said, finding her friend Beth on her front porch.

"I heard you came home today," Beth said, coming into the house and closing the door behind her. "I thought we could, you know, study."

"Um, sure," Gretchen shrugged. "I was just looking over Physics…"

"Did you hear what they're doing with the classes?" Beth asked.

"No, what?"

"Since that dinky elementary school only has about a quarter of the classrooms the high school has," Beth said. "They have to combine a bunch of the classes! They're going to be combining the AP, Honors, and Regular classes together under one teacher! Can you believe that?"

"Well, I guess that's the only thing they can-"

"They're going to be teaching on a _regular_ level, Gretchen!" Beth exclaimed. "All the AP students are going to have to self-teach themselves to be ready for the exams in May!"

"I'm sure we can manage," Gretchen said.

"Well, we all know you can," Beth said. "But still, just the idea of being in the same classes as those…morons is enough to make me want to transfer to a new school."

Gretchen shrugged. "Maybe it won't be that bad." She took a deep breath. "Did you go to Jenny's funeral?"

"Yeah," Beth sighed. "Her parents were really distraught. She had just got accepted into that Young Scholars program you got into last year."

"I know," Gretchen nodded. "She was so excited."

"You know they gave me the position after she died?"

Gretchen frowned. "They did?"

"I know it's a little insensitive to be bringing it up," Beth shrugged. "But Jenny was number two in the class, and now that she…well, point is now I'm number two."

Gretchen didn't say anything. How could Beth think about something like that now? Who care what rank in the class she was? Their friend was _dead_.

"Anyway," Beth said. "That math competition that was supposed to be two weeks ago was postponed to next weekend, so we'll have to put in some serious practice."

"Oh, yeah," Gretchen said, remembering that competition for the first time since the shooting. Truthfully, she didn't even _want_ to compete anymore. "Hey, you know Jenny and I went to that elementary school we're going to?"

"Really?" Beth said, opening her calculus book. "Were you guys friends?"

"No, we only talked once," Gretchen said. "She hung out in the library the whole day. She used to be called the Library Kid."

"Huh, I would've thought that would be you."

"One day me and my friends were in there and we saw her," Gretchen said, smiling at the memory. "And we tried to convince her to come out to recess with us, since she had never been to it before."

"I never liked recess either," Beth shrugged. "It seemed pointless. I would've stayed in the library too if I could."

"Well, Jenny loved it," Gretchen said. "She went wild, and my friends and I spend the whole day trying to catch her before she got hurt."

"What friends were these?"

"Oh, you know," Gretchen said. "Just some kids from my class…"

"Oh. Hey, you mind if I borrow your graphing calculator? I left mine at home."

"Um, sure," Gretchen said. "It's on my desk."

"Thanks," Beth said, heading back to Gretchen's room.

Gretchen sat down on the couch, more and more memories from Third Street Elementary pouring into her head.


	11. Chapter 11

Vince woke up from his dream, breathing heavily and sweat pouring down his body. Ever since the shooting he was having trouble sleeping through the night. He kept reliving the terrors of that day; the screaming, the gunshots, the bodies…

He wiped his sweaty face on his sheets and looked at the clock on his bedside table next to him and saw that it was a little past ten in the morning. He slowly got out of bed, changed out of his pajamas and headed downstairs.

"Morning, son," his dad said as he walked into the kitchen.

"Morning," Vince replied, grabbing a carton of juice from the fridge.

"Any plans today?" his dad asked, turning the page of the newspaper he was reading.

"Thought I'd head to Amanda's and see if she's ready to see anyone yet," he said.

"Oh, yes," his dad said, nodding. "That poor family…you give them out best, son, and make sure you're treating Amanda right. I can't even imagine what she's going through."

"Neither can I," Vince said.

After a quick bite of toast, Vince grabbed his car keys and drove the six blocks to Amanda's house. He was surprised to see a large moving van parked out front. Hopping out of his car, he ran up to the front door and rang the bell.

"Morning, Mrs. Murphy," Vince said when Amanda's mother opened the door.  
>"Oh, hello there sweetie," she said, pulling on what Vince knew was a strained smile. "Amanda's in her bedroom packing."<p>

"Packing?" Vince repeated, but Mrs. Murphy had already wandered back into the house.

He walked down the hallway to Amanda's door. He knocked, and a second later his girlfriend opened up.

"Hey," she said softly, letting him in her room. "I was about to call you."

"What's that moving van doing out there?" Vince asked.

"We're moving," Amanda said, not looking him in the eye.

"What?"

"We just can't stay here without…Colleen," she said, tears streaming from her eyes. "There's too many memories of her here and me and my parents just can't take it anymore."

Vince didn't say anything.

"I'm sorry you just found out," Amanda said. "I haven't told any of my girlfriends either. I haven't talked to anybody since the shooting. I can't."

"It's okay," Vince said, taking Amanda's hand. "But, um, what about us?"

"I don't think I can do it, Vince," she said, squeezing his fingers. "Its not that I don't want to be with you, but with everything that happened…it's just too hard. I need time to figure myself out."

Vince nodded. "I understand."

"Please don't be mad," she said, burying her head in his shoulder.

"I'm not," he said. "This has got to be rough on you."

"It is."

"When do you leave?"

"Noon," she replied, wiping her eyes. "We're going upstate. My dad's office has a sister company there that he's going to work at." She took a deep breath. "I think you should leave. I don't want goodbye to be any harder."

Vince stood up. "Right. Well," he said awkwardly. "Um, good luck."

He gave her one last kiss on her cheek.

"Bye, Vince," she whispered.

Vince let himself out. He drove back home, but didn't get out of his car when he pulled into his driveway.

Him and Amanda had been an item for almost six months; yet, he didn't feel heartbroken over the breakup. Sure, he felt bad for Amanda; the poor girl lost her younger sister, but he felt, if anything, as if a giant weight had been lifted from his shoulders.

….

Mikey sat in his bedroom, his poetry book resting on his lap as he sat at the foot of his bed, scribing rhymed lines to hopefully make him feel better.

It wasn't as if he wasn't used to being teased all the time; he couldn't go one day without walking down the hall and hearing someone make a snide comment about him as he passed. And of course, the people who did most of the teasing were either friends of Vince or T.J.. They were both jocks, Vince more so than T.J., even if they did have different social circles, and unfortunately, in all his experience, they were the cruelest. Usually he just ignored them. Even when he would see Vince and T.J. standing in the background, sometimes even laughing as well while they watched their friends torture him, he looked the other way. It wasn't even just T.J. and Vince's friends that treated him like that. Spinelli's art pals gave him disgusted looks when they walked past him in the hall. Spinelli wouldn't say anything, she would either look straight ahead or at the ground. Hustler Kid had come up to him one day at lunch with Gus at his heels to offer him weight loss pills that he "desperately needed". Gus, of course, had pretended not to hear the entire conversation. Even Gretchen's friends, the brains of the school, would whisper loudly about him during his AP English class, saying that it was people like him that were hurting the health care systems by making himself dangerously fat and that he should be ashamed of himself. He would look back at Gretchen who would have suddenly become very engrossed in some book.

He sighed and closed his poetry. He was too depressed to even write.

"Mom," he said, walking downstairs. "Is it okay if I go over to Sheldon's house?"

"That's fine, dear," his mother called from the kitchen, putting a batch of cookies in the oven. "Just be home by eleven."

"I will," he said.

Mikey didn't have a car. He had his license, but he simply preferred walking. Sheldon's house was only four blocks away, so the walk only took about fifteen minutes.

"Oh, hey Mikey," Sheldon greeted him when Mikey knocked at the door. "What's up?"

"Nothing much," Mikey said. "Can I come in? I thought maybe the two of us could just hang out."

"Sure," Sheldon said. "We could rent a movie or something."

"That sounds nice," Mikey said.

"So, you ready for school on Monday?" Sheldon asked, turning on his T.V. to the station that let you watch any movie you wanted.

"I suppose," Mikey shrugged. "I think it's going to be sort of nice being back at my old elementary school. I just wish it didn't have to be under these conditions."

"Yeah, I hear you," Sheldon nodded. "I went there in kindergarten, but then my dad got a job in the next town so I went to school there. I don't really remember the place."

"It was a good school," Mikey said, smiling.

"Hey, you know, I've been thinking about something," Sheldon said.

"What?"

"Well," Sheldon sighed. "Why did Francis and Gus do it?"

Mikey frowned. "What do you mean?"

"You always hear that the kids who shoot up a school are the ones who got picked on and teased and bullied beyond belief," Sheldon said. "But that's not them. That's us. If anyone had the right to-"

"The right?" Mikey repeated. "No one had 'the right' to do anything like that. Not them, not us, nobody."

"Well, yeah, I know that," Sheldon said quickly. "But they didn't have any real reason to."

"Nobody does," Mikey said, standing up. "An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind. I don't know why they did it, but it would be just as terrible if someone who got pushed around everyday like us did it. Lives would've still been lost and families still torn apart. Do you think that if Francis and Gus had been bullied they would've been justified in killing all those people? They had no right to do it, and neither does anyone else!"

"Whoa, Mikey," Sheldon said. "Calm down."

"I'm out of here," Mikey muttered. "See you around."


	12. Chapter 12

Spinelli walked around the town, her hands in her pocket, trying not to think about tomorrow, when she would be going back to school. She didn't want to go back to her old elementary school. Going there would just remind her of times she couldn't go back to. She had been walking around for over an hour, not really paying attention to where she was going. When she finally stopped, Spinelli looked up and found that she was in front of Kelso's. She hadn't been here in years; a soda shop that sold bubble gum and trading cards somehow lost its appeal as you got older, but Spinelli found herself pushing open the glass door and walking in.

The shop was exactly like she remembered it; she wondered if old man Kelso himself was still here…

She walked to the front counter, where there was only one other customer who had her back to Spinelli.

"There you go, dear," a man, who Spinelli assumed to be a slightly more aged Mr. Kelso, said, handing the girl a milkshake. "Enjoy."

"Thanks," the girl said, turning around. Spinelli blinked. The girl was none other than Gretchen.

The two girls stared at each other for a few seconds, and then without a word, Gretchen walked out of the shop.

"What can I get you?" Mr. Kelso asked Spinelli.

"Oh, um," Spinelli said, turning her attention towards him. "I-I guess I'll have a chocolate shake." She wondered whether Mr. Kelso recognized her…

"Coming right up," he smiled.

Spinelli sat down at one of the stools. It seemed like only yesterday her and her former friends were all sitting here, cheering on Mikey as he tried to eat Mr. Kelso's twelve-scoop deluxe sundae.

"You look like you do with some extra chocolate in your shake," Mr. Kelso said kindly, sprinkling some chocolate sprinkles

"Thanks," she said glumly.

"It's certainly been a day of old faces," he said, grinning.

Spinelli looked up. "You mean you remember me?"

"Of course I do; you and your friends used to be my best customers, Spinelli," he laughed. "You six used to come in here every day after school. I was just telling Gretchen how much I missed you all before you came in."

"Yeah, well, I guess we sort of-"

"Grew up," Mr. Kelso finished knowingly. "Yes, I suppose this place has lost its appeal to teenagers with all those new-fangled coffee cafes and yogurt places popping up on every corner."

"Not entirely," Spinelli smiled, taking a sip of her shake. "This is really good."

"Why thank you," he replied. "Now, if you don't mind my asking…I was sort of curious to know why you aren't all here together?"

Spinelli sighed. "You mean me and the others? Gretchen, Mikey, Gus, T.J. and Vince?"

"Yessiri."

"Well…we just sort of stopped hanging out in middle school," she told him. "You know, we all got new friends, had different interests..."

"Shame," he said, wiping down the counter. "It's not too often you see a group of friends as close as you six were."

"It's fine," she shrugged. "Like I said, we all got new friends now, so we're not completely alone or anything."

"I see," he said heavily, taking her empty glass. "Well, so long as everyone's happy, I suppose that's the best anyone can wish for."

Spinelli nodded as she hopped off the stool. "See you around, Mr. Kelso." She headed towards the door, but then stopped.

"Mr. Kelso," she said, turning back around. "Did you hear about Gus?"

"I heard alright," he sighed.

"You know he's pleading innocent?"

"I know."

"Do-Do you think he really _is_?"

"Spinelli," he said. "That boy nearly had a nervous break down after he stole _gum_ from my shop seven years ago. He had some real good morals, that boy. And if he said he didn't do it, well, I'm going to believe him."

Spinelli said nothing, and continued out of the store.

….

"You were never bullied?" Jerome Baker said to his client, frowning.

"No, not really," Gus shrugged. "I used to get teased about my size in middle school, but that was nothing. Besides, I grew before I reached high school."

"No home problems? Parents fighting? Money issues? Abuse?"

"No!" he exclaimed. "What does this have to do with anything?"

"Look, Gus," Jerome sighed. "Your case doesn't look good. If I'm going to get you off, I'm going to have to make you look sympathetic to the jury."

"Or," Gus said. "I could tell them the truth when I take the stand."

"You're not taking the stand," Jerome said shortly.

"What?"

"I'm not going to have you lose me my case by going up there and making a fool of yourself!" he snapped. "Besides, you go up there and that gives the prosecution a chance to badger you. No, it's too risky."

"Jerome," Gus sighed. "Do _you_ think I'm innocent?"

"Doesn't matter what I believe," he said, closing his briefcase.

Gus that statement right there answered his question.

"Remember, don't talk to any press without me," he said, signaling the guard to open the cell.

"Griswald, stay put," the officer said, letting Jerome out. "Your mother's here to see you."

Gus's parents came about once a week. Gus could tell this whole ordeal was taking an immense toll on his parents; especially his mother. When she entered the cell, Gus saw that her hair was messy and uncombed and her face was thinning.

"Mom," Gus said weakly.

"Hi, baby," she said softly. "You eating okay in here?"

"Yeah, mom," Gus nodded. "Where's dad?"

"He's at work," she said. "I bought you a suit for the trial."

"Thanks," Gus said. Then he broke down. "Mom," he sobbed. "What's going to happen to me? No one believes me, they won't let me tell them what happened, and it's not fair!"

His mom caressed his hand. "It's going to be okay, Gus."

"You believe me, right?"

"You're my son," his mom said firmly.

"But is that the only reason you believe me?"

"Griswald, time's up!" the guard called.  
>"But she just got here!"<p>

"That lawyer of yours used up your visitation time for the week," the guard snapped. "Mrs. Griswald, out here, please."

"I love you, Gus," she said to her son as she walked out of the cell.

…..

thanks so much for reading, you guys. Anyway, I _just _set up a Twitter. If you want, please follow me shahnawz94


	13. Chapter 13

When Monday finally arrived, the weather accurately reflected the mood of the five former friends; it was dark and gloomy, and the high winds made it seem even colder than it really was.

"You sure you have everything?" T.J.'s mom asked him as he headed out the door.

"Yeah, mom," he called back. "See you tonight!"

T.J. set off towards the elementary school. It seemed odd to be walking this particular direction again; the middle school and high school were clear in the other direction, so T.J. hadn't taken this path in years.

Suddenly, Spinelli, in her beat up pick-up truck, pulled up next to him.

"Um, hey," she said, rolling down the window. "Uh, do-do you want a ride?"

"A ride?" T.J. repeated.

"You know, to school? I saw you walking and I figured since we were going to the same place-"

"Oh yeah, sure," T.J. nodded. "Um, thanks."

He walked round to the passenger side of the truck and opened the door. Spinelli tossed the sketchbooks and easel paints that had been sitting on the seat onto the floor.

"I thought you had a car," Spinelli said as she drove towards the school.

"I did," T.J. said, looking out the window. "But if got destroyed from that pipe bomb that went off in the parking lot right before-"

"Oh," Spinelli nodded. "I guess it was a good thing I didn't drive to school that day…I had my parents drop me off; my battery was shot so I couldn't drive."

"Yeah, good thing," T.J. said.

"So they're mixing us all up," Spinelli said. "At the school. They divide you up by grade level but that's it. You can be with anyone; even if you've never had a class with them."

"I heard," T.J. said. "I guess that was the only way they were going to manage to fit everyone."

"Sucks, though," Spinelli shrugged. "For people like me in the dumb classes; hope the teachers don't expect me to be doing AP level work."

"Nah, I bet they'll let the smart kids sort of teach themselves," T.J. said.

"I guess," Spinelli said.

They drove the rest of the way in silence. When they reached the school, Spinelli parked in the teacher's parking lot.

"Where are we supposed to go?" she asked, looking around.

"That sign says the auditorium," T.J. said, getting out of the car.

"Oh," she said. "Well then I guess we should probably get over there then. Classes start at four, and it's five till now."

T.J. and Spinelli hurried into the school, ignoring the arrows that had been placed around the school to help the high schoolers find their way; the two knew exactly where to go. When they reached the hall that led to the auditorium, they finally found a few more students.

"Come on, keep it moving," they heard a scratchy voice yell from the auditorium door. "Give your name then find a seat!"

"Is that-" T.J. started.

"I don't believe it," Spinelli said, stopping in her tracks. "The old lady's still here!"

Ms. Finster, looking only a little more aged than she did five years ago, was standing at the door to the auditorium handing out classroom assignments.

Spinelli and T.J. exchanged looks of amazement, and for a split second, it was almost as if nothing changed; they were back under Finster's nose at Third Street Elementary.

"Yo, Teje," a voice said suddenly, and T.J. turned around to see Steve running over to him.

"Oh, hey," T.J. said.

"When'd you get here? I was texting you."

"I guess I left my phone on silence," he muttered lamely.

"Whatever," Steve shrugged. "Let's get in; Sebastian saved us some seats."

"Um, okay," T.J. said. He turned back to look at Spinelli, but by that time she had already spotted her own friends and had gone over to them.

"Dude, why were you talking to that weird chick?" Steve asked as they walked over to the auditorium. "What's her name…Ashley?"

"Spinelli," T.J. automatically corrected. "And she lives a few doors down from me; she just gave me a ride."

"You could've called me; I would've picked you up."

"This was easier," T.J. said. "You would've had to go out of your way."

"Names," Ms. Finster barked as the boys reached her.

"Steve Carmichael," Steve said.

"Carmichael, Carmichael…here!" She thrust a sheet of paper at him. "Into the auditorium. You, name!"

"Um, Theodore Detwiler."

"Detwiler?" she repeated, looking up from the stack of papers in her hand. "Well I never thought I'd see the day…I wondered what happened to you. LaSalle and Blumburg are already in there; thought you pack would all come into together…here's your schedule. And no hooliganism!"

"Do you know her?" Steve asked as they walked past her.

"Um, sort of," T.J. said quickly. "She was here when I was a student."

"What was she talking about LaSalle and Blumburg for?"

"We were in the same class, that's all," T.J. said. "Hey, there's Sebastian…"

The boys went to go sit down next to their friend.

"Finally," Sebastian said. "So what classrooms did you get?"

"112," Steve replied.

"Same," Sebastian grinned. "You, T.J.?"

"117."

"Damn; tough luck," Steve said. "Oh well; we'll still have lunch…or I guess we call it dinner now…"

"Can I have your attention please," their principle said, walking onto the stage, the chatter dying at once. "I'd like to say it's good to be back, but, well, I think we can all agree we're here under terrible circumstances. So on that note, let's all please have a moment of silence to remember each of the poor individuals that were lost."

A wave of silence swept through the auditorium.

"Thank you," the principle said. "Now then, as you entered the auditorium today, you received a classroom assignment. After I dismiss you, you will report to your assigned room. In order to avoid clogging up the halls with traffic, you are to stay in these rooms for the entire night, save for you break at seven o'clock, obviously. The teachers will be rotating from classroom to classroom. You all have been separated by grade, and will therefore be receiving all the classes required for you to move up to the next grade or graduate, if you are a senior. If you are enrolled in an Advanced Placement course, you will be responsible for taking the exam in May to receive the college credit, meaning you will have to study on your own. The teachers will be available before school starts, though, if further help is needed. Furthermore, I just would like to remind you that you are guests in this school; please treat it with respect. That is all; report to your designated rooms in an orderly fashion. Thank you."

"Find us at dinner," Sebastian said to T.J. as the three squeezed out of the auditorium.

"Okay," T.J. nodded. He watched Sebastian and Steve head down one hall as he turned into another one, looking for room 117. When he finally reached the room, he could barely believe it: he was standing in front of his old fourth grade classroom. The door still even had Ms. Grotkee's name on it…

He walked in and saw an English teacher sitting at the desk. He looked around at the rest of the students in the room. He saw Vince sitting in the back with some kid from the basketball team; the kid was talking, but it didn't look like Vince was listening. Also in the back, but many desks over saw Spinelli, who was doodling something in her notebook. In the front sat Gretchen, who was sitting next to her friend, Beth. Like Vince, Gretchen didn't seem to be paying too much attention to her friend. Mikey sat in the middle of the classroom by himself.

T.J. chose a seat in the front corner and watched the rest of the students file into the classroom. He saw Ashley B. limp in on crutches with Ashley Q and Ashley T. Their usual air of entitlement was gone, and they walked to a cluster of desks towards the back next to Vince and his friend. T.J. felt bad for them; as much as he didn't like the Ashley's in elementary school, it was unnatural to only see three of them…

He saw Randall stagger in on his prosthetic leg, and the old Digger Dave wander in looking more than lonely.

"Alright," the teacher said, closing the door as the last student walked in. "Are we ready to begin?"

…


	14. Chapter 14

Vince struggled to keep his eyes open as the teacher before him in the classroom lectured on about some book he was going to have to read by the end of the week.

English was by far his least favorite subject so paying attention was always a task for him, but he found it a lot harder being back in his old fourth grade classroom surrounded by his former best friends. It seemed that the fact that they were all back together in this particular classroom was some sort of taunt…

"So Vince," his friend Cole whispered. "Amanda's definitely not coming back?"

"No," he whispered back. "She left a few days ago."

"It sucks about her sister, though, Colleen was such a sweet kid."

"Yeah, I know," he nodded.

"And is it true you two broke up?"

"Who told you that?"

"Jack. So, is it?"

"Yeah, we did," he muttered.

"Shame," Cole said. "So, you got your eye on anyone else?"

Vince shook his head. "Not really."

"Well, Ashley B did like you, at least she did before everything happened," Cole whispered. "I mean, you should probably wait awhile before you ask her, but if you're interested…"

Vince shook his head. Quite frankly, the last thing on his mind right now was dating. "No, don't worry about it."

"LaSalle, Martian," the teacher snapped at the boys. "Is your conversation _really_ more important than what I'm teaching right now?"

The boys shook their heads.

"Than I'd thank you to kindly keep it down," she said crossing her arms. "There's only a few minutes left of this period so I suggest you pay attention. Now then, I'm going to hand out the book, and you're to have through chapter three read by tomorrow." She began walking around the room, passing out copies of _The Great Gatsby_. She had just finished when the bell rang.

"Be prepared for a discussion on the assigned chapters!" the teacher told the class as she headed out of the room.

"You know," Cole said, leaning over to Vince. "If you're not interested in Ashley, I'm sure there's some other girl for you. None in this room, of course…the Ashleys are the only hot girls in here! Of course, you could go for that art freak over there, Spin something or other?"

Vince pursed his lips. "Spinelli."

"Yeah, whatever. Or I know, you could go with Grudler! My god that would be hilarious! She'd probably use all these words and technical terms you wouldn't understand."

"She doesn't talk like that," Vince muttered. "She's not a know-it-all."

"Dude, you've never talked to her; how would you know?"

"Just shut up, okay?" he said loudly, causing everyone else to stare at him.

"What?" Cole frowned.

"Just shut up, alright?" Vince said, lowering his voice again. "Do you always have to be such a jerk to everyone?"

"What's up with you?" Cole said. "I'm just messin' around."

"It's not funny," Vince said. "Just shut up and stop talking about people behind their backs like that. They didn't do anything to you."

"Whatever man," Cole snapped. "You're acting like a duchebag, you know that?"

"I think you've got that department pretty much covered," Vince retorted.

Cole opened his mouth to reply, but just then their next teacher walked in, so he instead just flicked Vince off.

Vince rolled his eyes. He couldn't believe how long it had taken him this long to realize how his friends really were.

…

"My God, this is turning my brain to mush," Beth whispered to Gretchen as their new teacher began writing math equations on the board. "I did this stuff back in middle school!"

Gretchen didn't reply. All through English Beth had been making snide remarks about the level of the class and she wasn't looking forward to hearing the same thing all though math either.

"Oh my God, I'd so rather be doing Calculus," Beth moaned. "Something that actually requires an IQ above fifty to do!"

"Beth, shh!" Gretchen hissed.

"Okay, can anybody tell me what X would be in this equation," the teacher said, looking around the classroom. "How about you, Ms. Spinelli?"

"Um…4?" Spinelli said.

"No, sorry," the teacher said. "Let's see…Okay, Ms. Hamilton? Do you know the answer?"

"It's 33, obviously," Beth said obnoxiously, rolling her eyes.

"Very good," the teacher said, turning back to the board. "Now let's see how she got that answer…"

"I used my brain," Beth whispered to Gretchen.

"Beth, stop," Gretchen whispered back. "You're acting stuck-up. Not everyone's good at math, you know."

"Yeah, and they're the ones who become waiters and janitors," Beth laughed. "Which judging by her grades is exactly what that Spinelli girl's going to end up being."

"She's an amazing artist," Gretchen whispered furiously. "I've seen her paintings. They're better than anything you can make. Maybe she'll get something in a museum one day and make way more than you or I ever will."

"Whoa, chill out," Beth frowned. "What's got you up tight?"

"I'm sick of you looking down at everyone because you're smarter than them! Book smarts isn't the only important characteristic, you know."

"Um, yeah, it's the only thing that can get you into a good university. And why shouldn't I look down at them? They're just going to wind up weighing society down anyway when they get out of high school."

"In case you've forgotten," Gretchen whispered. "You're not the smartest person in the school. That's me. I could make you feel stupid just like you make everyone else feel. Instead of helping you in AP Chem., I could just laugh at you and tell you I knew how to do the problems in fourth grade! But I don't because I don't like making people feel bad about themselves like you apparently do."

"Where's all this coming from?" Beth asked, narrowing her eyes.

"I'd done dealing with your stuck-up attitude," Gretchen mumbled. "And I'm done with you."


	15. Chapter 15

"There you are," Joe said as Spinelli dragged her feet out of her classroom for the dinner break. "Glenn and I have been waiting for you; let's grab some food before all the tables are taken."

Spinelli nodded and followed her friends to the all too familiar cafeteria. As she stood in line waiting for whatever sort of concoction that was going to be served she smiled to herself as she thought of all the times she had done the exact same thing when she was a kid. Of course, when she waited in line here then, she was accompanied by her five best friends and would most likely be discussing plans to sneak in the Ashley's clubhouse or to try and foil Randall.

"Glenn and I got stuck in the worst class of people," Joe told Spinelli as they picked up their trays off chicken that was so dried out it looked like plastic. "They're probably the preppiest kids from the school."

"Hey, I feel worse for Spin," Glenn said as they sat down at a crammed table. "Did you see who was in _her_ class? That T.J. Detweiller."

"For real?" Joe laughed. "Man, that sucks, Spinelli."

"What's wrong with T.J.?" she frowned.

"What do you mean what's wrong with him?" Glenn said. "I can't stand that kid."

"Neither can I," Joe said, attempting to cut his meat.

"You've never talked to him," Spinelli pointed out.

"So?" Glenn shrugged. "You can just tell by the way he acts that he's someone we'd hate. I mean, he's one of those kids that thinks he so hilarious and cool when really, most of the student population wants to punch his guts out."

"Yeah, I had him in my history class back at the high school," Joe nodded. "He used to sit behind me and try to make all these jokes. Plus he always mumbled these weird ideas under his breath, like forming a group of students to fight the administration about the cut back on chocolate chip cookies in the cafeteria."

"And do you see the way he dresses? He's such a wannabe," Glenn said.

Spinelli pretended to be very interested in her food.

"He must be a real drag to hang out with," Joe said. "I don't think I could handle having him in my classroom for six hours everyday."

"You were upset about the cookies too," Spinelli mumbled under her breath.

"What?"

"I said," Spinelli spoke up, her voice rising slightly. "You were upset when the cafeteria replaced the chocolate chip cookies with diced fruit at the beginning of the year too! Don't you remember? You said that was enough to make you start bringing your lunch from home. Everyone was upset! But you know what? T.J. was the only one who tried to do anything about it! Maybe if everyone else had just a tiny bit of his nerve we'd still have them."

"Spin, come on, you _can't_ be sticking up for this guy," Glenn said. "Him and us are on like two totally different ends of the social totem pole. His crowd doesn't like or associate with us, and we don't like or associate with them. It's a perfect system."

"Yeah?" Spinelli said, standing up. "Well I guess I'm a flaw in it then."

She grabbed her tray and stormed out of the cafeteria.

…

T.J. looked around the cafeteria. A few extra tables had been added to accommodate all of the extra students. He spotted Steve and Sebastian and a few of the other guys he usually hung out with sitting at a table near a window. He was just about to walk towards them when he saw Mikey pass that very table.

Mikey didn't look at the boys or say anything, but as he passed, Steve stuck out his leg, causing Mikey to fall tumbling to the ground, spilling his lunch in a painfully cliché fashion. Laughs erupted from the cafeteria and T.J. saw Sebastian high five Steve.

Mikey didn't do anything, though. Despite all the laughs that were being directed towards him, he simply picked up what he could salvage of his food, and quickly walked out of the cafeteria.

For years, T.J. had watched Mikey being bullied; mostly by people he called his friends. He never once saw Mikey fight back in any way, and sometimes T.J. wondered how he could deal with it; how he could still hold his head up high while idiots like that made his life a living Hell.

T.J. glanced back over at his so-called friends, still guffawing about Mikey, and turned and headed out of the cafeteria. He couldn't sit with them; not after that; not after everything. Before when he saw them bully Mikey he would feel bad, but he would also pretend that Mikey was just another kid in the crowd; that he had no relationship with the large boy. But being back in his old elementary school and watching it, well, that was not an easy task.

T.J. found himself heading out the side door; the door that lead to the playground.

Even though it was dark, T.J. found it easy to remember the exact layout of the playground that was once his absolute haven. The kickball field, the wall ball wall, and of course, the majestic Old Rusty that stood in the center of the playground. Hesitantly, T.J. walked over the jungle gym. It was just as he remembered it from the last day of sixth grade when he slid down the slide for his final time; back before everything became so complicated. To go back to the days when his biggest problem was avoiding a detention with Finster or keeping the crazed kindergartners from invading the 'Big Kid Territory'; back to when his friends didn't make him hate himself for associating with them; back to when he felt he actually _knew_ what happy felt like…

Sighing, T.J. sat down at the end of the slide. The cold metal felt good; as if he belonged there. He looked up; staring at the starry sky. It was then, though, that he realized he wasn't the only one on the Jungle Gym…


	16. Chapter 16

"Vince?" T.J. frowned, looking up at the top of the jungle gym where the boy was sitting.

"T.J.?" Vince said, looking down.

"Who's here?" came another voice, and T.J. looked and saw that Spinelli was sitting at the top of the monkey bars.

"What's going on?" Gretchen asked, sticking her head out from the bottom part of the jungle gym.

"I didn't realize anyone else was here," Mikey said, jumping down from one of the ladders.

T.J. slowly stood up as Spinelli, Vince and Mikey jumped down from their respective spots and Gretchen rose, clutching her side, from the ground.

The five former friends stared at each other. In the darkness, they hadn't noticed the others come onto the playground, and had assumed that they were alone.

T.J. cleared his throat. "Um, what-what are you all doing out here?"

"Couldn't stand my friends anymore," Spinelli mumbled, kicking up a bit of ground with her boot.

"Me neither," Vince said, looking at the ground.

"Same," Gretchen nodded, playing with a lose thread on her jacket.

"Likewise," Mikey said.

"I guess I'm in the same boat then," T.J. said.

The five were quiet for a moment.

After their group dissolved in middle school, there had been times that each one of them had imagined a sort of reunion among all of them, but now that it was happening, it felt more awkward than anything.

"So," Vince said, breaking the silence. "I guess we all didn't have anywhere else to go; that's why we all ended up out here."

"I would assume," Gretchen said.

"Kind of weird that we all ended out here at the same time, though," T.J. said. "What are the odds of that happening?"

"What were the odds of us being put in the same classroom together?" Spinelli pointed out.

"Considering how many students are here, not that high," Gretchen said. "Especially in our old-"

"Fourth grade room," Mikey finished. "You mean you remembered too?"

Gretchen nodded, so did the others.

There was another silence.

"So, Gretchen," Spinelli said. "I guess you're doing better…I heard you got hit during the…well, you know."

"Yeah," she sighed. "What about you, Mikey? I heard about your arm."

"No harm," Mikey said. "Just a little sore."

"Man," T.J. said. "Never thought I'd be back at this place." He looked over at the school.

"I know," Vince agreed. "I thought when I left in sixth grade I wouldn't be coming back."

"Do you remember the last day of sixth grade?" T.J. asked, a small grin showing on his face. "How we tricked Finster into ordering forty huge crates of chocolate milk?"

"Oh yeah," Mikey said. "And chased after us for the entire recess trying to send us to that naughty box of hers."

"I can't believe she's still here," Spinelli said. "Did she remember you guys?"

"Yeah," T.J. nodded. "In fact, when I came in…she- she said she was surprised we all didn't come in together."

A third silence fell.

"Well," Mikey said. "You can't blame her for thinking that we would've…the last time she saw us we were inseparable."

"I know," Vince sighed.

T.J. took a deep breath. "What happened?"

"What do you mean?" Gretchen asked, even though she knew very well what he meant.

"We used to be best friends," T.J. said. "And now we barely even look at each other in the hallway! How did that happen?"

"It was middle school, man," Vince told him. "We got put in different classes."

"That's a pathetic excuse," T.J. told him. "If that had happened to us in elementary school, we would've worked around it; we still would've found some way to make it work."

"But we tried, remember," Spinelli said. "We used to hang out after school, but then everyone started doing different activities and having different plans on the weekend. We just didn't fit into each others schedules."

"The problem was, I think," Mikey said. "Was that we took friendship in general for granted. Maybe we all assumed that since our friendships were so strong that they would be that way with the new friends we made; that soon we would have another group just as tight-knit as ours once was. But that was our mistake; our friendship that we had when we were younger was the result of a special bond that formed over the years among all of us. A bond that, according to the reason we're all out here, hasn't developed with our so-called new friends."

The others looked at their feet.  
>"I think he's right," Vince said. "I mean, I'll be the first to admit; when I'm with the guys I hang out with now, I don't have half as much fun as I did when it was just us."<p>

"Thought I was the only one," T.J. grinned. "My new friends don't like playing pranks, causing an uproar, none of that fun stuff."

"And when you hang out with a bunch of braniacs, the only entertainment you get is debating over the latest articles in science journals," Gretchen smiled.

"And sitting around with a bunch of artsy kids is surprisingly boring," Spinelli added.  
>"And when you only associate with the theatre kids," Mikey said. "It's hard to tell when they're acting and when they're not."<p>

"But what can we do about it?" Vince said. "We're sort of stuck with them. They're the ones that are into the same things as each of us."

"Maybe not," T.J. said. "We were into the things we were into now back when we were in elementary school, weren't we? And we still managed."

"Well that's because we would do the activities that we all liked," Gretchen said. "You know, watching cartoons, playing on Old Rusty…kickball."

"You're right," Mikey nodded. "And even after we finished those games, we still supported each other at our individual interests."

"I don't think we've changed as much as we think we have," T.J. said. "I just think maybe we thought everyone else did."

Yet another silence took over.

"So what now?" Vince asked, looking around at the other four. "Do we go back to how things used to be? Or do we try this again?"

"I'm not going back to my old friends," T.J. said firmly.

"Me neither," the others said.

"Yeah, I don't particularly want to either," Vince said.

Slowly, smiles crept onto their faces.

"It sort of feels like we're back in fourth grade again," T.J. said. "All of back together…"

"Not quite," Mikey added sadly. "We're still missing one."

The others nodded. He was right. While the five of them might have formed the rocky foundation to begin building up their friendship again, they still were in the absence of one sixth of their old group:

Gus.


	17. Chapter 17

The bell signaling the end of the dinner break rang.

"Guess we have to go back in," T.J. said, looking back at the school.

"Yeah," Spinelli sighed.

The five stared at the building. Though none of them said it, they were all clearly hesitant about entering it after officially isolating themselves from their usual social circles.

"We're going to be late," Mikey said after a few minutes.

"You're right," T.J. nodded, straightening his jacket. "Let's go."

The hallway was filled with hundreds of students, all trying to get to their classrooms, and no one gave the five a second look as they wove their way through the crowd.

T.J. felt relieved; he hated to admit it, but he was almost afraid about what his friends would say when they saw him with people so far off from those they usually hung out with.

"T.J.!"

T.J. looked over his shoulder and saw Steve and Sebastian making their way over to him. "Where were you? We looked for you at-"

"Come on," T.J. mumbled to the others, ignoring the two boys.

Luckily, their classroom wasn't far, and they managed to get inside before Steve or Sebastian could catch up.

Making it back into the school wasn't the biggest challenge, though, the five soon realized. They stood in the front of the classroom, looking around at the seats.

Gretchen looked at Beth, who had her Physics textbook out and was writing in her notebook with a scowl on her face, and Vince looked at Cole, who was talking to the three Ashley's in a hushed voice; no doubt about him.

"Where do we sit?" Spinelli mumbled.

"In the middle, I suppose," Mikey replied. "It's the only place with five desks together."

So slowly, T.J., Vince, Spinelli, Mikey and Gretchen took their seats at the five desks right in the middle of the classroom.

T.J. shifted nervously in his desk. He hadn't sat with any of the others in years, and it felt…strange, but also right. T.J. took out his notebook and a pencil, but accidentally dropped the pencil on the floor. When he bent down, he saw an etching at the bottom of the desk. It read: _Senior Fusion rules!_

T.J. grinned; he remembered etching out that exact statement seven years ago.

…

At last, at ten o'clock, the final bell rang and the high schoolers first day at Third Street Elementary had come to a close.

"Feels kind of weird going home when it's dark out," Gretchen remarked as the five walked to the parking lot.

"Yup," Vince agreed. "Did you all drive here?"

"I walked," Mikey said.

"Same here," Gretchen said.

"Spinelli actually picked me up when she saw me walking," T.J. said.

"Yeah, I can give you a ride home too, if you want; it's not out of the way, after all."

"Um, yeah, I'd really appreciate that."

"I can give you two rides home," Vince said to Mikey and Gretchen.

"Thanks, but I enjoy walking," Mikey replied. "And if I remember correctly, my house is in the opposite direction from yours."

"Look," Vince said. "It's supposed to rain tonight; you don't want to get caught in that. I'll drive you both home."

"Thanks," Gretchen smiled.

"Yeah, thanks," Mikey said.

"My car's right here," Vince said. "I guess I'll see you two tomorrow."

"Yeah," T.J. nodded. "Tomorrow."

Him and Spinelli watched Vince, Gretchen and Mikey climb into Vince's car and pull out of the parking lot. They were walking towards Spinelli's truck when Sebastian and Steve ran over to T.J.

"Dude!" Steve said, slapping T.J.'s back. "Where were you at dinner? We looked all over for you, and then when we saw you afterwards you totally blew us off."

"Guys, just drop it, will you?" T.J. mumbled. He looked over at Spinelli, who was uncomfortably playing with her car keys.

"Whatever," Sebastian said. "Come on; we'll drive you home."

"I was going to go with Spinelli," T.J. said.

"What? That's crap, man," Steve laughed. He turned to Spinelli. "You can leave; he doesn't need you to drive him home. He's got better options."

Sebastian laughed.

Spinelli gave Steve a dirty look, but didn't say anything.

"Shut up!" T.J. said loudly. "Don't talk to her that way."

"Whoa, is she like your girlfriend or something now?" Sebastian said, grinning. "Got to say, Teje, didn't think you went for the freak show type, but I guess if she's going to give it up, you can-"

Without thinking, T.J. swung a fist at Sebastian's face, hitting him square in the nose.

"What the hell?" Steve yelled, helping Sebastian back up to his feet. "What's your problem?"

T.J. didn't respond. He turned back to Spinelli, who was looking at the scene with a mixture of amusement and awe.

"Come on," he said. "We're out of here."

….

"I can't believe you punched him in his nose!" Spinelli exclaimed as she pulled onto her and T.J.'s street.

"He's had it coming for a _long_ time," T.J. told her.

"There was so much blood," Spinelli grinned. "I haven't seen so much since this one wrestling match last week where T-Saur used his famous 7-8 stomp on Pyro!"

"You still like that stuff?" T.J asked as Spinelli pulled up in front of his house.

"Of course," she said. "Watch _World of Wrestling_ every day."

"That's cool," T.J. smiled, jumping out of the car. "Thanks again for the ride; I'll see you tomorrow."

"Bye," she said, and drove off to her own house.

"Hi, how was the first day back?" T.J.'s mom asked him the second he walked into the house.

"Um, alright I guess," T.J. said. "It was a little…different."

"Well, sometimes different can be good," she said. "So, did Steve drive you home?"

"Er, no," he said. "Actually Spinelli did."

"Spinelli?" his mom repeated, a hint of surprise in her voice.

"Yeah, the girl who loves a couple houses down," he said. "You remember her, don't you? Short girl who had boots and pigtails?"

"Of course I remember her," his mom said, smiling. "I just haven't seen her in so long…I didn't think you two hung out anymore."

"Well, you know…" T.J. said, grabbing a bottle of water from his fridge. "I'm going to head up to bed, mom. G'night."

"Good night, sweetheart."

T.J. walked up to his bedroom and sat down on his bed. He knew punching Sebastian like he did and blatantly choosing Spinelli over his so called friends was practically social suicide, but somehow, he found himself not caring; his place in the social structure didn't seem all that important, all of the sudden.


	18. Chapter 18

Gretchen walked up the path of the elementary school. Maybe the previous night had just been a dream; a wonderful, fantastic dream in which her deep hopes of finally reconciling with her grade-school friends had come true. Maybe she would walk into the classroom today and find that everyone still had his or her own social circles…

"Hi," a voice behind her said, smacking her out of her daydream. She turned around and saw Vince walking over from the parking lot.

"Hi," she responded.

The two stood there for a moment. While they had made some sort of verbal pact to try to reform their group, it was by no means going to be easy after a five-year absence from each other's lives. Could they still talk about the things they used to? What did they have in common any more?

"So," Vince said, putting his hands in his pocket. "Um, Jenny Hyat; you were friends with her, weren't you?"

"Oh, yeah," Gretchen said softly.

"Sorry about, well…"

"Thanks. You know she was the Library Kid here?"

"No way? That was her?"

"Uh-huh," Gretchen nodded. "She didn't remember us, though. Or at least she didn't mention us in all the years I talked to her."

"Weird," Vince said.

"And…that girl you're dating, I heard that her sister…"

"Yeah," Vince said heavily. "It's too bad. She was a sweet kid; didn't deserve that…um, but, by the way, Amanda and I aren't dating anymore. She broke up with me before she moved."

"Oh wow, sorry, I didn't know."

"Don't worry about it," Vince said. Once again, the two were quite for a moment, and then Vince chuckled.

"What?" Gretchen asked.

"I was just thinking…" Vince replied. "Back when we were kids, you used to be pretty tall."

"But I'm still tall," Gretchen pointed out.

"No, not really," Vince smiled. "You're what, 5'6? 5'7? I swear, I think you were this height in sixth grade."

"I got my growth spurt early, I guess," Gretchen shrugged. "And you were pretty tall yourself. I mean, you're even taller now, obviously…"

"6'3," he said proudly.

"I guess that comes in handy with basketball," Gretchen said.

Vince was about to reply when suddenly, Cole and Gabriel strutted over to the two.

"Vin, you were supposed to meet us at the court today," Gabriel said, crossing his arms.

"I told you, something's up with him," Cole said. "He was acting like a complete ass wipe in class yesterday."

"Ah, give him some slack," Gabriel said. "He's just pissed he doesn't have any chick right now after Amanda dumped him. Wait," he turned to Gretchen. "Is this why you're talking to her? Come on, man, you can do _a lot_ better than her."

"Shove off," Vince snapped. "I'm talking to her because unlike you two idiots, she can actually string together a normal conversation!"

"Did you just call me dumb?" Gabriel frowned.

"Yeah, I did. Get lost."

"Fag," Gabriel mumbled as he walked past Vince, shoving him with his shoulder.

"Don't listen to those morons," Vince said. "You know what jerks they are."

"Yeah," Gretchen said, looking at the ground.

"Let's go in," Vince told her. "It's getting cold out here."

…..

"What exactly is this?" T.J. frowned, looking at the brownish gluck on his tray as he walked with the others through the cafeteria.

"Something with turkey, according to the sign," Spinelli replied. "There's a table right there."

The five sat down at the only available table in the cafeteria.

T.J. looked over his shoulder and saw Steve and Sebastian sitting with their usual group. Sebastian's nose had a long red gash on it, and he was talking to the others, pointing over in his direction.

Spinell looked over at Joe and Glenn. They were glaring at her as they spooned their mashed potatoes into their mouths, looking absolutely disgusted with her.

Mikey looked over at Sheldon, who was sitting with a few other members of the Drama Club, looking over at Mikey with very confused faces.

Gretchen saw Beth sitting with the math team. She appeared to be talking very quickly about something; no doubt her belief that she should replace Gretchen as president of the team.

Vince glanced over at his jock friends, who were sitting in the center of the cafeteria, sending menacing glances his way.

"Well," Mikey said after everyone had played with his or her food for five minutes. "Are we just going to sit here, or are we going to talk about it?"

"Talk about what?" Gretchen asked.

"Gus!" he exclaimed. "We can't pretend we weren't all thinking about him!"

"What's there to talk about?" Spinelli snapped. "He's going to jail, where he deserves to be."

"You-you think he did it?" Mikey asked.

"Everyone says he did!"

"That doesn't make it true," Mikey pointed out.

"Look, Mikey," T.J. sighed. "Gus was found in the hallway with a gun in his hand and four dead bodies around him. What do you _think_ could be an explanation for that?"

"I don't know," Mikey admitted. "But I do know Gus."

"Did," Spinelli said. "You haven't talked to him in years."

"So?" Mikey said. "I haven't talked to any of you in five years and I can still honestly say that none of you would ever do such a thing."

"He hung out with Francis," Vince said. "That kid was bad news. Gus probably got pressured into it."

"Come on," Mikey said loudly, slamming his fist on the table. "How can you guys all think that of your friend? Do you really, _really_ think Gus Griswald is capable of shooting so many people?"

No one spoke for a moment.

"No," T.J. said softly. "I-I; he's Gus. He's so quiet you forget he's there sometime. It's just…I don't know what to believe. Deep down, I _don't_ think he did it, but…all that evidence."

"I agree," Gretchen nodded. "When I heard about him I thought I misheard the name or something. But everyone seemed so sure…"

"I don't think he could've done something so awful," Vince sighed. "I don't want to, at least."

They looked at Spinelli.

"Well…alright, look, I know it's Gus," she said. "And I know that he used to be our friend, and a good guy and all that…but- but what other reason could there be for him having that gun?"

"I don't know," Mikey said. "But maybe we should go and ask him."


	19. Chapter 19

Gus lay on his stiff cot, staring at the concrete ceiling of his cell. This is what he did every day; sit around and wait for it to be over. His trial was only two weeks away, and all he knew was that his lawyer wasn't going to listen to a single thing he said. Honestly, it wasn't the thought of going to prison that scared Gus the most, though it did make him very shaky. It was the fact that if he didn't get to tell everyone what really happened, he was going to be forever known as a cold-blooded killer.

"Griswald, get up," a guard said roughly, unlocking his cell. "You've got visitors."

Gus sighed as he got up. His mom and dad had visited him at the beginning of the week, so it was probably just Jerome, telling him once again that he wasn't to say one word at his own trial.

The guard led Gus into the visitation room, where the pockets of his orange jumpsuit were searched thoroughly.

Gus sat down as the guard exited the room. He didn't know why Jerome kept bothering to visit him if he didn't even listen to a thing he said; maybe it was written in his contract somewhere that he had to visit Gus a certain number of times before the trial.

The visitation room's door slid open and the guard re-entered. Gus's jaw dropped as he realized that it wasn't his lawyer who came to visit him.

…

"He's probably locked up in one of the high security cells," Gretchen said as her and the other four stood in front of the prison. "Which means that his visitors are restricted to immediate family and his lawyer."

"I think I can get us in," Spinelli grinned. "My uncle's friend works at the sign in desk here; maybe we can convince him to, you know, cut the rules for us?"

"That just might work," T.J. said. "Okay, here's the plan. We're going to go in there and hear Gus out. That's it. Gus is a terrible liar, remember? We'll know if he's telling us the truth."

"Right," Mikey nodded. "Come on, let's see him."

The gang slowly walked into the prison's entrance. It was a depressing atmosphere. The front hall was lined with plastic chairs where people waiting to visit an inmate sat to fill out the paperwork.

"He's over there," Spinelli whispered, nodding over to the man sitting at the front counter.

"Spinelli? Is that you?" the man said, looking up.

"Hi Lou," Spinelli said.

"What could possibly bring you here?" Lou asked, frowning. "Oh, don't tell me one of your brothers got into trouble again!"

"No, they actually both went back to school," Spinelli told him. "Listen, we-we need a favor from you. You think you can help us out?"

"Depends on what it is," Lou replied.

"We need to see one of the inmates," Spinelli explained. "But see, we're not family or his lawyer…"

"Who's the inmate?"

"Gus Griswald," she whispered.

Lou looked up. "Now what do you want to be seeing that kid for?"

"Please, Lou," Spinelli said. "We just need to talk to him about something important."

Lou stared her, contemplating her request.

"You know how much trouble I can get in for letting you five in to see that kid?"

Spinelli nodded.

Lou sighed. "My boss is out right now, but he's due back any minute. You have until then, understand?"

"Thanks so much," T.J. said.

"I'll have someone bring into a visiting room," Lou said, picking up his walkie-talkie.

The five sat down in the plastic chairs and didn't say a word until one of the guards and led them back to a room.

When they saw Gus, he looked up at them with a look of surprise.

"Vince?" he whispered as the guard left the room. "Gretchen? Mikey? Spinelli? T.J.?"

"Er, hi," T.J replied, running his fingers nervously through his hair.

"What-what are you doing here?" Gus stammered.

"We could ask you the same thing," Mikey said softly. "What happened, Gus?"

"I didn't do it," he said quickly. "I know you guys aren't friends with me anymore, but you've got to believe me! No one's listened to me, though, and I'm going to go to prison and everyone's going to think I'm a killer when I-"

"Gus, stop," T.J. said. "Slow down."

"So-so you didn't do it?" Spinelli asked.

"No!" Gus exclaimed. "But no one's letting me tell my side of the story! My own lawyer won't even hear me out! They all think I'm guilty!"

"But, Gus," Gretchen said. "The evidence…you had a gun…you were found surrounded by bodies..."

"I know, it looks really bad," Gus said. "But what happened was-"

"Out," Lou said, rushing into the room. "My boss just came back; you can't be here."

"Guys, please," Gus said. "You have to believe me!"

"We-we do," T.J. nodded. "Gus, we're going to help you."

Gus smiled his first smile in weeks. "You will?"

"Hurry up!" Lou hissed.

"We will," T.J. assured him, hurrying out of the room. "I promise."

"Thanks again, Lou," Spinelli said once the five were safely back in the front hall of the prison.

"At least you didn't get caught," he nodded. "Now I've got to get back to work. You kids get out of here."

"Er, T.J.?" Vince said as they headed to the parking lot. "Why did you promise Gus you would help him?"

"Because he didn't do it," T.J. said simply. "You saw how scared he was in there; that wasn't the face of someone who could stand there and shoot four people."

"Yeah, but how can you prove that?" Spinelli asked. "You can't exactly go up to a jury and say he's too scared looking to do it."

"Look," T.J. said. "If we don't do something, Gus is going to go to prison for the rest of his life for a crime he didn't commit. We've got to at least try to help him. It's-it's been a long time since I've come up with any sort of plan," he added. "But I'm not going to let that stop me. Now who's going to help me?"

The four looked at each other.

"I will," Mikey said, smiling. "You're doing a good thing, T.J.."

"Yeah, I'll help too," Gretchen nodded. "There's got to be something we can do."

"Count me in too," Vince said.

They looked at Spinelli.

"Oh, all right," she sighed. "I'm in."


	20. Chapter 20

"So again, if we look at line," the teacher said to the class as she drew a graph on the board. "We'll be able to see that it is positively sloped. Now to find the value of that slope, we would use our slope formula; does anybody remember how to do that?"

Spinelli moaned as she stared at the confusing numbers on the board. Math had never been her best subject.

"Anyone?" the teacher asked, looking around the classroom at the confused looks of the students. "Okay, Beth, what's the answer?"

"The slope is seven over six," she answered snobbishly.

Gretchen rolled her eyes as Beth turned to her and gave her a cold stare.

"How the heck did she get that?" Spinelli mumbled.

"Use the rise over run formula," Gretchen whispered. "You know, y2-y1 over x2-x1?"

"Oh," Spinelli nodded, scribbling the formula down in her notebook. "Thanks."

"Okay, I'm going to hand back yesterday's test," the teacher said, walking around the classroom, passing back the papers. "I must say, I wasn't pleased with the results."

"An F?" Spinelli sighed. "Again? Man, I'm not ever going to pass this class."

"Yes you will," Gretchen told her.

"Not with these grades," Spinelli said. She looked over at Gretchen's paper, which was, of course, a perfect score.

"So, Gretchen," Spinelli started. "Um, you remember back in elementary school when you to tutor me sometimes?"

"Yeah," she nodded.

"Well I was wondering if you might want to, I dunno, start that again?"

"Sure," Gretchen smiled. "We can start this weekend so we can prepare for the next test on Monday."

"Thanks," Spinelli said. "You're a life saver, Gretchen."

….

At dinner that evening, the five sat down at their table.

"So how's that plan of yours coming along?" Spinelli asked.

"It's harder than I thought," T.J. sighed. "Are we sure no one actually saw that whole scene?"

"It wasn't one of the main hallways," Vince pointed out. "The students were only there hiding."

"I was in that hallway," Mikey said.

Everyone turned to him.

"You were?" Gretchen frowned.

"I didn't see anything," he said quickly. "When I was running I got hit in the back of my arm and I fell. But…I know he was there."

"How do you know that?" T.J. asked.

"I saw his shoes," he said. "When he ran past me…I don't know what happened after that…"

"Well that doesn't help us," Vince sighed. "That just proves he was there."

"It doesn't mean he shot those students," Mikey said firmly.

"But how can we prove that?" Gretchen asked. "It's almost like the whole thing would've had to be caught on video."

"Video!" T.J. exclaimed. "That's it! The security cameras at the high school! They must've caught the shooting; they'd show if Gus shot those students or not!"

"That's brilliant!" Vince grinned.

"There's only one problem," Gretchen said. "What if there wasn't a security camera in that hallway?"

"What?" Spinelli frowned. "You mean that there aren't cameras in every hall?"

"No," Gretchen shook her head. "Only certain ones."

"Anyone remember ever seeing a camera in that hall?" Vince asked.

They all shook their heads.

"Well," Gretchen said, pulling her laptop out of her backpack. "There could be a way to find out…I could hack into the school board's files and pull up the electric blueprints of the building. I know what sort of electrical circuit a security camera would require so all I would have to do is see if I see it in that one hallway."

"Er, yeah, of course," Vince nodded as Gretchen began typing away on her laptop.

"Gretchen, is it legal to do this?" T.J. asked.

"No," she said. "But if I can get in and out in under three minutes then my IP address won't be traced back to me…"

"Forgot how smart you were," Vince laughed. "Good thing, too, this could be our only chance."

"Alright, I'm in," Gretchen said. "Now let me pull up the electrical blueprint…"

"Anything?" Mikey asked.

"Hold on," she said. "Okay, I got them…let me see that one hallway…uh-oh."

"What?" T.J. frowned.

"There's no camera," Gretchen said. "The only electrical wiring in that whole area is from the air conditioning and the lights."

"Damn," Spinelli sighed.

"Hold on," Mikey said slowly. "There still might be another way."

"How?" T.J. asked. "If there's no security camera than what other way would there be to see what happened?"

Mikey grinned. "You'll see."


	21. Chapter 21

"Wait, you want us to talk to _him_?" Vince exclaimed.

"It may be our only chance to get evidence that Gus didn't shoot those people," Mikey said.

"Yeah, but still, _him_?" Spinelli cringed.

"Mikey's right," T.J. sighed. "If it means getting Gus out of jail…we're just going to have to buckle down and do it."

The five were standing outside the school. Classes had just let out, and the front of the school was packed with students trying to make their way home.

"Are you sure about this, Mikey?" Gretchen asked.

"Positive," Mikey nodded. "Randall's good friends with a few guys from the Drama club. I've heard him talking loads of times about the camera's he's got perched around everywhere to try to catch students up to no good. And I'm certain I've heard him mention something about one on top of the trophy case in the hallway where Gus was."

"There he is," Vince mumbled, nodding over to Randall as he limped out of the school, his metal leg he had gotten after being slugged in the leg peeking out from under his pants leg.

"Let's get this over with," T.J. said. "Come on."

He led the other four over to Randall.

"Er, hey there, Randall," T.J. said once they reached him.

"T.J. Detwiller?" Randall frowned. "What do you want?"

Randall had continued to be a sort of a snitch throughout middle school and high school. However, with a much wider range of students, he no longer targeted T.J. or the others as his prime victims to rat out. In fact, he hadn't had any contact with the five since elementary school, save for the occasional class together.

"Just, um, wanted to say hi," T.J. said lamely.

"I doubt it," Randall said, crossing his arms. "Now get out of my way; some of us want to get home."

"Look, worm," Spinelli said, stepping in front of T.J. and staring up at Randall menacingly. "You're right; we don't want to just say 'hi' to you. We need information, and you're going to give it to us, otherwise I'm going to make you feel a whole new type of pain."

"Spinelli?" Randall said. He didn't appear threatened by Spinelli's speech, but instead astounded that she was standing next to T.J. He looked at the others. "Vince? Gretchen? Mikey? I-I didn't think you guys still hung out."

"It's none of your business whether we do or not," Vince said, stepping next to Spinelli. "Just answer our questions and you're free to go."

"That's-! Oh, okay, fine," he said. "What questions?"

"Is it true that you have all sorts of micro cams around the school?" Mikey asked.

"Who told you that?" Randall asked suspiciously.

"It doesn't matter," T.J. said quickly. "We won't tell anybody else. Just answer the question."

"Yeah, alright, it's true," Randall nodded. "Ms. Wexter in the administrative office likes it when I give her the low down on what's about to happen before it does. That's how she was able to stop Gracie Mitchell and Paul Kress from hooking up in the projection room above the auditorium last year; because I caught their whole conversation planning it on video."

"You little sneak," Spinelli said through her gritted teeth. "Why I ought' a-"

"Did you happen to have one near the trophy case in the hallway next to the cafeteria?" Gretchen asked before Spinelli could finish her sentence.

"Why?" Randall asked. "Why do you five all the sudden want to know where I put my-"

"Did you or did you not?" T.J. snapped.

"Fine, yeah, I did," Randall mumbled. "It's no use to you now, though. I can't get to any of my cameras; the stupid high school's locked still."

T.J. nodded. "Well, thanks, Randall. That's all we wanted to know."

The five turned to walk away, but Randall called after them.

"A lot of people wondered what happened, you know, in middle school."

They turned back around.

"What?" T.J. asked.

"You know, a lot of kids from Third Street wondered what happened to you guys," he shrugged. "You guys were best friends, and then come middle school you all sort of just…lost touch. But whatever, it's not like I cared or anything; I'm just saying…"

"See you around, Randall," T.J. said.

"Well, that doesn't help us any," Spinelli said as the five walked towards the parking lot.

"Yeah, if the school's locked, we still can't get to Randall's cameras," Gretchen nodded.

"Come on," T.J. grinned. "When have we ever let a little thing like locked doors stop us?"


	22. Chapter 22

Congratz to Madam-Merra for catching the Mean Girls reference in the last chap

…

T.J. paced nervously back and forth in his living room. He had told the other four to meet at his house at noon today so they could discuss how they were going to get a hold of Randall's cameras. It had been years since the gang had been at his house, and them coming over here now was making him anxious. Would they remember how to get here? Would it be awkward having them all over?

There was a knock at the door and T.J. hurried to answer it.

"Hi, Spinelli," he said, letting her in.

"Hey," she replied, entering the house. "Wow, it's been awhile since I've been in here."

"Yeah," T.J. chuckled. "Um, so, the other's aren't here yet. You want something to eat? I've got chips and stuff in the kitchen."

"Sure," she nodded.

T.J. led her to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl from the cupboard and emptied a bag of chips into it and handed it to Spinelli.

"Thanks," she said, eating a chip.

T.J. watched her. She really had changed appearance wise since elementary school. Her hair was much longer now, and her figure was more developed. She looked…nice.

"Er, the others should be here any minute," T.J. said as he got tow cans of soda out of the fridge. "Mikey's house isn't that far away so he's walking over, and Vince is picking up Gretchen on his way."

"Hey," she said. "Do you still have that tree house out back?"

"I haven't been up there in years," T.J. laughed. "But yeah, it's still there."

"Remember when we were like seven and we would have sleepovers in there?"

"Oh yeah," T.J. grinned. "I remember one time it was just you and me up there and you ended up getting freaked out and we had to go sleep in the living room."

"I heard something moving in your backyard!"

"It was a squirrel," T.J. told her. "I tried to tell you that, but you were already running towards the house."

"You never told anyone about that, did you?" she whispered.

"I-I always thought you wouldn't want me to."

Just then there was another knock at the door, and T.J. ran to answer it. Mikey, Gretchen and Vince were standing at the door.

"I got here just as Vince and Gretchen were pulling into the driveway," Mikey said as the three stepped inside.

"Nice timing," T.J. said. "Okay, well, Spinelli's already here, so why don't we get to work?"

"Are you sure we can even do this?" Vince asked as they headed into the kitchen. "I mean that school's got to have a ton of security around it. How do we know that the people cleaning up the school didn't already find the cameras and throw them out?"

"We just have to hope that didn't happen," Mikey said.

"I know it's going to be hard, you guys," T.J. told them. "But we just have to remember that we're helping Gus."

"You're right," Gretchen nodded. "So what did you have in mind?"

"I-well, nothing," T.J. admitted. "I-I haven't really made any sort of plans like this in years."

"If we're going to break into the high school," Spinelli said. "It's going to have to be at night. The workers are fixing it up all day."

"But we're in school all night," Mikey pointed out.

"Right," Vince sighed. "And if we skip, the school will call our parents and then we'll all be in trouble."

"We'll have to do it on a weekend then," Gretchen said. "Ideally this weekend; Gus's trial is the first of February; we don't have much time left."

"We can do it this Saturday," T.J said.

"I hacked onto the school board's website again this morning," Gretchen continued. "They have three new security systems in place and at each door, they have an ID scanner. To get in, the workers have to have to scan their ID's before they can get through the doors."

"So we can't get in then?" Spinelli frowned.

"Well," Gretchen said. "I think I might be able to disable the system if I can hook it up to my laptop."

"That's great!" Mikey exclaimed. "So on Saturday night we'll all sneak over to the school and-"

"I don't think we _all_ should go," T.J. said. "Think about it; if all five of us go we might attract attention and get caught. I think only two of us should go. Gretchen obviously has to be one of them, now we just need one more."

"I'll go with her," Vince volunteered.

"Alright," T.J. nodded. "Me, Spinelli and Mikey will stand on that sidewalk across from the school and make sure no one comes. If we do see someone come, we can call you on your cell phones and you can get out of there."

"Sounds good," Vince nodded. "But, um, do we even have each others cell phone numbers?"

The others shook their heads.

"Guess we should probably do that," T.J. chuckled. He pulled out his own phone. "Remember back in sixth grade how we were all dying to get a cell phone?"

"Yeah, because every other kid on the playground had one," Spinelli pointed out.

"And we promised that when we got one, we would put each others numbers in first, before anyone," Mikey added softly.

They all nodded in silence. After a moment, they quickly exchanged phone numbers.

"So," T.J. said, clearing his throat. "Are-are any of you busy today? I thought maybe we could, you know, hang out until it was time for school?"

"I'm free," Mikey said, and the others nodded in agreement.

"What do you want to do?" Spinelli asked.

T.J. smiled. "Why don't we go out to the tree house?"


	23. Chapter 23

"Wait, so you can just get rid of the X's?" Spinelli frowned.

"Right," Gretchen nodded. "Since you have one in the numerator and one in the denominator. You can do that anytime you have a situation like that."

"So then I'm left with Y=7," Spinelli said.

"That's the answer," Gretchen grinned. "You've got this, Spinelli."

"Yeah, thanks to you," Spinelli said. "I can't believe you sat here and tutored me for three hours straight."

"It's no big deal," Gretchen shrugged. She looked at her watch. "It's ten till seven, when did the guys say they'd be here?"

"In about five minutes," Spinelli replied. "Are you sure your parents won't be home anytime soon?"

"I'm sure," she replied. "They'll probably work until at least eleven."

"On a Saturday night?"

"They're both the leading researchers at each of their offices," Gretchen explained. "They work a lot. Trust me; they'll never know anyone was here."

There was a knock at the door and Gretchen hurried to answer it.

"Hey," she greeted the three boys as she let them into her house. "You have everything?"

"Binoculars, flashlights, rope…" T.J. said, patting his backpack. "Everything you need for your basic school raid."

"Why do we need the rope?" Spinelli frowned.

"We don't," he admitted. "But I thought it'd be cool to bring."

"We drove by the school on our way over here," Vince said. "It looked like the last worker was just leaving, so we should be in the clear."

"Let's go then," Gretchen said, grabbing her laptop.

Spinelli had driven her truck over to Gretchen's house earlier that day, so she drove over to the high school with her while the boys got back in Vince's car. They parked in an empty shopping center on the street behind the school.

"Okay, I'll stand on this side of the street, Spinelli, you stand on the other one," T.J. instructed. "Mikey, you watch the back of the school and make sure no one comes in through that side road. Vince, Gretchen, you two ready?"

"As we'll ever be," Vince nodded. "Remember; call us if you see anything and give us a heads up so we can hide."

"Don't worry, we'll have your back," Mikey smiled. "Now go on."

Gretchen and Vince started towards the school as the others took their positions.

"Is that the ID scanner?" Vince asked Gretchen as they climbed up the front steps of the school.

"Yup," Gretchen nodded, looking at the device on the wall by the door. She took out her laptop and set it on the ground under the scanner. She took a wire out of the laptop case and connected one end of it to the computer and the other end to the scanner.

Vince glanced at the screen and saw all sorts of bizarre symbols and numbers flash on.

"I'm glad you're doing this and not me," he said.

"Watch the lights on the scanner," Gretchen told him. "Tell me when the red light turns green."

"Got it," Vince commented. He leaned against the wall and watched her type away furiously at the keyboard as her amber hair fell over her shoulders. He never really took the time to notice the color when they were younger, but now he was almost fascinated by it…

"Is it green yet?" she asked, snapping him back into reality.

"Er, um, yeah," Vince said, quickly looking back at the scanner. "Yeah, it is."

"Okay, then all we should have to do it this…" she stood up and pressed one of the buttons on the scanner. It beeped, and she easily pulled open the door.

"Have you ever considered working for the secret service or something?" Vince asked as she scooped up her laptop.

Gretchen smiled. "Let's just find that camera and get out."

"Sure thing," Vince nodded as they quickly headed into the dark school. "It's sort of creepy being here."

They walked down the halls, hearing their footsteps echo.

"I don't think they've cleaned up too much," Gretchen muttered, looking at a red stain on the floor.

"They must just be busy working on the repairs," Vince said, softly. "You know, worrying about the electricity and the foundation…"

They passed by a piece of cardboard in the middle of the floor. Gretchen bent down and looked at it.

"Victim number seven," she read. "Harry Stingson…the police must've never picked these up; they placed them wherever they found bodies."

"This is the main hallway," Vince commented. "It's where most of the people got hit." He bent down and looked at another piece of cardboard. It read; _Gretchen Grundler, victim number 19_.

"I forgot that this is where it happened," she whispered, reading the cardboard over his shoulder. He noticed her hand was lightly holding the side of her abdomen. "I was in the cafeteria when Francis came in. I followed the crowd and ran out into this hallway, and that's when I felt the bullet…"

Vince didn't know what to say.

"The trophy case is around that corner," she said.

He nodded and put the cardboard back where he found it and followed Gretchen to the trophy case.

The trophy case was very tall; at least nine feet high.

"How are we supposed to see if there's a tiny little camera up top?" Gretchen frowned.

"I don't see anything to stand on," he sighed. "Maybe we could sneak into a classroom and bring an chair out here."

"The doors are probably all locked, and I'm not very good at picking locks," she said.

"Here, I have an idea," Vince said. "You can get on my shoulders and-"

"What? No way!"

"Come on; it's the only way we'll be able to see the top," Vince pointed out.

Gretchen crossed her arms.

"I can bench 280," Vince told her. "I think I can manage to lift you."

"Are you saying I weigh 280 pounds?" she laughed.

"Just get up," he grinned. He bent down as Gretchen positioned herself on his shoulders. When he stood up, Gretchen was just able to reach the top of the trophy case.

"Anything?" Vince called up to her.

"A lot of dust," she replied. "Some crumpled up papers…a tennis ball…wait a second, I think I see it!"

"Well grab it!"

"It's all the way in the back," she moaned as she stretched her arm as far as possible. "But I think I've…got it!"

"Way to go!" Vince said as he lowered her back to the ground.

"Now let's get out of here," Gretchen said, stuffing the camera into her jacket pocket.

Vince nodded, but just as the two started away from the trophy case, his phone rang.

"It's T.J.," he said, looking at the screen. He picked up. "Hello?"

"Vince, you've got to get out of there now!" T.J. exclaimed into the phone. "Someone's coming in!"


	24. Chapter 24

T.J. leaned against the stop sign at the end of the sidewalk in front of the school. The street was empty. He turned and looked at Spinelli, who was standing some ways down at the other end of the sidewalk. He picked up the binoculars that were hanging around his neck and held them up to his eyes so he could see her better.

She was absentmindedly playing with the ends of her hair as she drew circles in the dirt with her boot. Every now and then she would glance up and look around to make sure no one was coming towards the school.

"What are you looking at?"

T.J. dropped his binoculars and spun around and came face to face with Mikey.

"Jeez, Mikey, you scared me," he said. "And what are you doing here? You're supposed to be watching the back of the school."

"I was," he said. "I was watching that back road to make sure no one turned in when I noticed that there were a bunch of ladders and paint cans in the student parking lot. I think that the workers must've forgotten them here, which means that-"

"They'll be coming back to get them," T.J. finished, slapping his forehead. "Why didn't you just call me, though, instead of coming over here?"

"Dead battery," Mikey said simply.

"Well, hopefully it won't be too big of a problem," T.J. said. "If they left everything in the parking lot, then they won't have to go into the school. We'll just have to hide when we see them coming and tell Gretchen and Vince not to come out then."

T.J.'s phone began to ring, and he looked down and saw it was Spinelli.

"Hello?"

"What's going on over there?" she asked. "Why isn't Mikey watching the back of the school?"

"He came to tell me that the workers left some of their equiptment behind," T.J. explained. "So we're thinking they'll be coming back soon. When they do we're going to hide and we'll call the other two and tell them not to come out yet."

"Sounds good," Spinelli said.

"Just keep and eye out," T.J. said. "And let us know-"

"T.J., look!" Mikey whispered. He pointed to a pair of headlights that had just turned down the street and were heading straight for the school.

"Spin, hide!" T.J. said quickly into the phone. He hung up, and him and Mikey ran behind a large tree. He saw Spinelli dart into some bushes.

"Why are they parking in the front?" T.J. asked as the car pulled into the school. "Their stuff is in the back."

"The gate back there is closed," Mikey replied. "They're going to have to walk around like I did."

"I'll call Vince," T.J. said, getting out his phone again. "And tell him-huh? Why are they going up the steps?"

"It looks like they're going into the school!" Mikey whispered anxiously. "Oh no!"

The two watched as the workers walked up to the front door, scanned their ID badges and opened the door.

"I'll tell them to hide," T.J. said, frantically dialing Vince's number. "I just hope they know what they're doing."

…

"I hear footsteps!" Gretchen whispered urgently. "We've got to get out of here!"

"But the classrooms are locked!" Vince said, desperately looking around. Then he had an idea. "The locker room's just around the corner, we can go there!"

"That'll be locked too!"

"Coach gave me a key," Vince said, grabbing her wrist as they ran off. "I have it in my wallet."

When the two reached the locker room, Vince dug into his pocket for his wallet and extracted the key. He unlocked the door and pushed Gretchen inside and followed after her.

"Don't turn on the light or anything," he told her. "They'd see if shine out from the crack underneath the door."

"Who do you think could be here?" Gretchen asked. "I thought all the workers went home."

"No clue," Vince said, pressing his ear to the door. "Crap, I hear somebody."

Gretchen moved next to him and pressed her ear against the door as well.

"You sure you left your toolbox in here, Artie?" said one of the voices.

"Yeah, I'm sure," answered another one. "It should be by those windows we worked on today."

"But you had it when were fixing the ventilation system in the locker room," the first voice said. "And we did that afterwards."

"Fine, we'll look in there."

Vince, signaled for Gretchen to follow him, and he quickly led them to the showers. They ducked down behind the short wall just as the door opened.

"You forgot to lock it, you moron," the first voice said, flipping on the lights.

"No I didn't! I remember checking it right before we left!"

"Just grab your damn toolbox so we can get out of here. We still have to go out back and grab the ladders you left here."

"They only fell off the truck because _you _didn't tie them down!"

Gretchen and Vince listened intently, waiting for the coast to be clear. Finally, the two men flipped the lights back off and shut the door, and their voices faded and they walked away.

"That," Vince said, helping Gretchen up. "Was close."

"Too close," Gretchen agreed. "I guess we have to wait in here until one of the others tells us the workers have left."

"I guess so," he nodded, sitting down on one of the benches. "Man, its been weeks since I've been in here. I've almost sort of forgotten what it looks like."

"It doesn't smell as bad as everyone said it does," Gretchen said, smiling.

"Yeah, I guess they aired it out," Vince nodded. "Finally. I heard that the girls' locker room actually has those air freshener things that they plug into the walls. Is that true?"

"I don't know," she shrugged. "I've never been in there."

"What? What about for P.E.? We all had to take that as freshmen."

"I took it online," Gretchen said. "The guidance counselor told me and my parents that taking it in school would lower my GPA too much, since it's not an advanced course, so my parents forced me to do it take it that way."

"They have P.E. online?"

"Yup," she laughed. "It was really boring, but at least it saved me from humiliating myself in front of the entire class; you remember what an uncoordinated klutz I was back in elementary school."

"You weren't that bad," Vince told her.

"We both know that wasn't true," Gretchen said. "The only thing I could actually do was yo-yo."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm terrible at yo-yo. I always end up getting in tangled."

"I could imagine that," she chuckled.

Just then, her phone rang.

"Hi, Spinelli," she answered.

"The truck just pulled away," Spinelli said. "It's safe to come out now."

"Alright, we should be out shortly," Gretchen nodded. She hung up. "Come on, the coast is clear."

The two walked towards the door, but when they tried to open it, they found it was locked.

"Shit!" Vince fumed.

"What's wrong? Don't you still have the key?"

"The key only opens the door from the outside," Vince said, kicking the door in frustration. "We're locked in."

"Locked in?" Gretchen repeated.

"Fantastic," Vince moaned. "I can't believe I- wait, the window!" He pointed to the small window next to a row of lockers. "It looks like we can squeeze out of it."

"Nice thinking," Gretchen nodded.

Vince grabbed a bench and pulled it next to the window. "It's kind of a long drop," he observed. "Are you sure you're going to be able to manage it? Does-does it still hurt where you got…you know?"

"I'll be fine, Vince," Gretchen assured him. "You want to go first, or should I?"

"I'll go," Vince said. "At least that way if you fall I can catch you."

"And what if you fall?"

"Please, like that would ever happen."

He pushed open the window and heaved his legs through it and without looking down, he jumped to the ground.

Gretchen stepped onto the bench after him and looked out.

"It's not as far as it looks," Vince told her.

Gretchen nodded and carefully placed her legs through the window and then, after taking a deep breath, jumped down.

"You okay?" Vince asked her.

She nodded. "Come on, let's get the others and get out of here."


	25. Chapter 25

"Wow, Gretchen," T.J. said as the five stepped into her room. "You sure have a lot of tech stuff."

"My parents bring home stuff from their labs," she explained, turning on one of the two computers on her desk. "This one's really good for retrieving video files. Now I just have to see if I have the right USB port to connect it to the camera…"

She rummaged through a box of cables underneath her desk and finally pulled out one. "I think this one will work."

She connected the camera to the computer and typed in a few codes.

"Okay," she said. "The video file on here _is _retrievable, but…"

"Not a but," Spinelli moaned.

"It's going to take a while to download onto the computer," Gretchen finished.

"How long is a while?" Vince asked.

"About 24 hours," Gretchen said.

"That's not _too_ bad," Mikey said.

"It will be done by tomorrow night then," T.J. nodded. "So we can meet up Monday afternoon before school and watch it."

"Sounds like a plan," Gretchen said.

"We can meet at my place," T.J. said. "My mom's going to be uptown shopping with my sister."

"Great," Mikey smiled. "We'll see everyone then."

….

"Did everything turn out okay with the video?" T.J. asked Gretchen as she walked into his house with her laptop.

"Yeah," she nodded. "I transferred the file onto my laptop this morning. I haven't watched it yet, though."

"Well play it," Spinelli said. "We broke into a school for this, now I think we all want to see if it was worth it."

"There's over 90 hours of video on here," Gretchen said, opening up her laptop. "We may have to fast forward through some stuff."

"Are there any dates on the video?" Vince asked.

"I believe so," she replied.

"Then why don't we just skip to the day before the shooting," he suggested. "That way we won't have to sit here and watch hours of our classmates, but we still won't miss Gus, if he's on here."

"Good thinking," Mikey said as Gretchen fast-forwarded the video. She stopped on the intended date, and turned up the sound on the laptop so everyone could hear.

"Everything looks pretty normal," T.J. muttered. "We never even imagined that-that what happened the next day would ever…"

"I know," Spinelli whispered.

"Hey, there's you, T.J.," Vince said, pointing at the screen where T.J. and Sebastian were leaning on the wall across from the trophy case. There weren't many people in the hall, so the five were able to make out what they were saying.

"Some game last night," Sebastian said to T.J.. "That was a nice cross you made to Nate."

"Thanks, man," T.J. said. "Too bad we didn't get home until eleven. I barely had time to scrape together that book report on _The Scarlet Letter_."

Just then, Spinelli and her friend Glen walked across the screen, past T.J. and Sebastian.

"Man," Sebastian said, looking after the girls. "Those chicks are freak shows."

T.J. shifted uncomfortably in his seat as he continued to watch.

"Um, yeah, T.J. said on the screen, putting his hands in his pocket.

"I mean did you see that little one?" Sebastian laughed. "What are with those boots? They look like she got them from Good Will or something!"

T.J. gave a small laugh. "Yeah…she sure is a mess."

"I hear she's a dyke," Sebastian continued. "Probably her and that other girl she's always with are a thing."

Spinelli, who hadn't said a word, curled her hands into fists as she continued to watch.

"I bet," T.J. said. Then the bell rang, and the boys hurried off to class.

"Spinelli, I didn't mean any of that," T.J. said quickly, turning to face her as the video played on. "It was all Sebastian; he's a jerk! You saw that the other day when he-"

"You agreed with him," Spinelli said softly. "You didn't defend me."

"I-I wanted to!" he stammered. "But I couldn't! I-"

She shook her head. "Don't."

"Spinelli! I-"

"Keep playing the video, Gretchen," she said, cutting him off. "We still have to find Gus."

T.J. buried his head in his hands as the others watched in silence for the next twenty minutes. The halls were empty, since class was in session, so the only people they saw on the video were a few teachers. But then, they heard some voices, and a few seconds later, they saw Vince and his friend Cole walk by and stop at the water fountain a few feet away from the trophy case.

"Glad coach lets us do whatever we want during gym," Cole said as Vince gulped down some water.

"He works us enough at practice," Vince pointed out, swallowing the water.

"That's for sure," Cole said. "Hey, look at this." He was pointing to a flyer above the water fountain.

"What is it?" Vince asked.

"It's about that National Honor Society thing," he laughed. "They're telling students if they want to join, they need to get their GPA's recorded! Man, how lame is that?"

"Sad you can't join?" Vince grinned at his friend. "You're barely passing anything."

"Barely passing is still passing, as you always say," Cole said. "Besides, even if I had a high enough GPA, I still wouldn't join. That club's full of geeks and losers. I mean look at that one girl, the one that's always winning awards for the science fair and math competitions…what's her name?...Grundler! That's it!"

Vince felt his stomach clench as he watched the scene on screen.

"That girl's crazy smart," Cole continued. "Too smart, if you ask me."

"What's wrong with being smart?" Vince asked.

"Come on, you know girls like her have no social life," Cole scoffed. "I mean, have you _seen_ her with any guys besides those weird geeks from the math team? I doubt that girl could get a date if she posted an add online."

"Um, I guess not."

"Come on, let's head back to the gym. We can watch the girls stretch."

The boys walked away from the camera.

"Listen, Gretchen," Vince started.

"You're just like T.J.," Spinelli sneered.

"Yeah," Gretchen nodded in agreement. "I can't believe you would say those things about us."

"It was before we were friends again!" T.J. pointed out.

"Who cares?" Gretchen retorted. "Just because we had stopped being friends doesn't mean it's all right for you guys to say those things about us!"

"Like you guys never said anything about us before," Vince countered.

Both girls were silent.

"You see?" T.J. said. "You're just as guilty as us! I bet you two have even said stuff about one another!"

"Oh please," Spinelli said. "Everyone knows the basketball team talks trash about the soccer team."

"Well you probably-"

"Enough!"

The four fell silent and turned to Mikey, who had stepped between them.

"You four are all guilty," Mikey said. "You've all said stuff. But I know for a fact that none of you really meant it. Sure, it was wrong of you to go along with all of your friends when they were doing it, but all of us are teenagers; you know, peer pressure and all that? But like T.J. and Vince said, they didn't mean what they said on camera, just like I'm sure Gretchen and Spinelli never meant any of the things that they said either. Even though we weren't friends then, I don't think we ever stopped caring for us. At least, that's what I've always told myself when I heard things about me."

The others looked at their feet.

"He's right," Vince sighed. "And Mikey, I know there have been times when my old friends would…well, no use beating around the bush, would make you totally miserable, and I never did anything to help you and would just laugh with them. I felt terrible. Just like whenever my friends would say something about the rest of you."

"I know we've all said stuff," Gretchen nodded. "But Mikey's got to have suffered the most. And he never said anything about us."

T.J. and Spinelli nodded in agreement.

"I'm really sorry about what I said on the tape," T.J. said earnestly to Spinelli. "Really. I don't think that at all about you."

"Thanks," Spinelli smiled.

"And Gretchen," Vince said, turning towards her. "I didn't mean what I said at all. Not even a little."

"It's okay," Gretchen told him. "And while we're on this apologizing role, I want to say I'm sorry to everyone too. Especially Mikey."

"Me too," Spinelli echoed.

"I think this calls for a group hug," Mikey said, smiling widely.

"Oh, come on," Spinelli moaned, rolling her eyes. "You know I hate those."

"Yeah, there so cliché," Vince echoed.

Mikey, still the largest out of all of them, pulled them into a large hug.

"All right, big fella," T.J. laughed as they pulled away. "How about we finish watching that tape? We've still got to see Gus."


	26. Chapter 26

"Everyone's running now," Spinelli said softly as the five continued to watch the tape. "So that must mean-"

"This is when the shooting took place," T.J. finished.

On screen, they watched hundreds of students run past the trophy case, screaming and looking absolutely panicked. Once the crowd of students had cleared out, the hall was empty for a moment, and then a handful of students staggered into the hall with horrified looks on their faces. Two ducked behind a row of lockers across from the trophy case, while the other two desperately tried to open up the nearby window. A second later, Mikey ran into view, but he fell almost instantly, and the five watched from T.J.'s kitchen as a pool of blood formed around his arm. And then, they saw Gus run on screen. He looked down at Mikey with a stunned expression. Mikey had fallen face down, though, so the poor boy couldn't see his former friend as he cried out in pain.

"Francis!" Gus exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

There were two loud bangs, and the students who had been trying to pry the window open fell limp onto the floor.

"I told you not to come to school today, Gus," Francis said, walking calmly into view. "You should've listened."

Gus, who was looking at the two bodies in a state of shock, shook his head. "How could you do this? Why?"

"Get out of here, Gus," Francis said, wiping the body of his gun off. "I don't want you to get hurt."

"I-I'm not going to let you hurt anymore people!" Gus said, stepping towards Francis.

"You'll do exactly what I say," Francis said.

Suddenly, the two students who had been behind the lockers darted out and made a run for it.

Francis raised his gun, and as Gus let out a yell, he fired two shots, and the students collapsed onto the floor.

"Stop it!" Gus yelled, tears coming down his face. "Stop!"

"Shut up!" Francis screamed. He pointed the gun at Gus. "I don't want to do it," he said softly. "But I will, if I have to."

Gus fell silent. Francis lowered his gun, and then walked over to Mikey, who was still lying where he fell. He must've blacked out at some point. Francis pointed his gun at Mikey's head, and put his finger on the trigger.

"No!" Gus yelled. He ran at Francis and shoved him away from Mikey. Francis, who had been caught off guard, stumbled, and the gun fired at the window, causing the glass to shatter.

"Get off, Gus!" Francis exclaimed. "Before I hurt you!"

But Gus didn't let up. He had gotten a lot stronger over the years, and soon he had Francis pinned to the floor. He managed to pull the gun from Francis's hand.

"Why did you do this?" Gus asked shakily. "Why?"

"Because," Francis said simply.

And with that, Francis shoved Gus off him, and ran out of the camera's view as Gus remained on the floor, shaking; the gun still in his hand.


	27. Chapter 27

"He really didn't do it," T.J. said softly, still staring at the screen.

"He's innocent," Vince said. "He was telling us the truth after all."

"I knew it," Mikey said.

"Well we have to get him out of jail!" Spinelli exclaimed. "Come on, we can get over there now before we go to school and show this to a cop and-"

"We need to get over there now then," Gretchen said, looking at her watch. "We only have an hour before we need to be at school."

"I drove my mom's van over," Vince said. "Everyone can fit in it."

The five hurried into the van and Vince drove at least twenty miles past the speed limit until they reached the jail.

"Hi," T.J. said breathlessly to the lady at the front desk. "We really need to see someone about Gus Griswald's case. It's-"

"You need to go to the police station then," the lady said lazily. "We just hold the criminals. We don't deal with the fancy legal junk."

"That's all the way across town!" Spinelli cried.

"I think we can still make it though," Gretchen said.

They jumped back into the van and sped across town to the police station.

"Why are these news vans here?" Mikey frowned, looking around the parking lot.

"I'm not sure," T.J. said. "But come on, we need to hurry."

They ran up the front steps of the police station and threw open the front doors to find the place packed with reporters. The chief of police was standing in the middle of them.

"The court feels that moving the Griswald trial from next weekend to tomorrow is necessary in order to ensure that it is handled as quickly and efficiently as possible-"

"They're moving it to tomorrow?" Vince whispered urgently to the others. "They can't!"

"If we get the tape to the police, it won't matter," T.J. told them. "Now come on."

"What are you kids doing here?" a large police officer asked, stepping in front of them as they tried to make their way through the crowd to the front desk.

"We need to turn in some-"

"Do you have authorization to be here?"

"No, you don't authorization to be in a police station," Gretchen pointed out.

"Is there an emergency you're reporting?"

"No, but-"

"Then you need authorization," the officer said. "I've already kicked out about a half a dozen teenagers trying to get their face on the eight o'clock news, now get out of here before I do the same to you."

"We don't want to be on the news!" Mikey exclaimed. "We just want to help our-"

"Out of here. Now," the officer snapped. "Or I'll place you under arrest for disturbing the peace."

"Disturbing the peace?" Vince cried. "What about all these newscasters? They aren't disturbing the peace?"

"Requesting back up in the front hall," the officer said into a walkie-talkie. "I've got five teens who won't-"

"Alright, alright, we're leaving," T.J. said. "But we'll be back!"

"What are we going to do?" Mikey asked as they walked back to Vince's van. "If the trial starts tomorrow then we won't get a chance to show the tape."

"The trial will likely last for weeks," Gretchen told him. "And we _can _submit evidence after it started. But unfortunately, I think the courthouse and the police station will both be flooded with newscasters like today, and you saw how that turned out."

"Well we've got to get this video shown somehow," T.J. said. "Otherwise Gus will be going away for life."


	28. Chapter 28

"I guess everyone's found out about the trial tomorrow," T.J. said, setting his tray down at the table. "Everyone in the lunch line was talking about it."

"We just heard a bunch of kids pass by here going on about it," Vince told him. "And just like the rest of the world, they all think Gus is guilty."

"It looks like we're the only ones who know the truth," Mikey sighed. "Oh, what a heavy burden this places upon our feeble shoulders!"

"My shoulders are _not_ feeble," Spinelli snapped.

"I've been looking up similar cases on the Internet," Gretchen said, typing away on her laptop. "And from my calculations, the average trial length was 3 weeks, 2.61 days. That means we have to get the video into evidence within two weeks, just to be on the safe side."

"You'd think it would be easy," Vince frowned. "Just walk up to an officer and hand him the evidence that could free an innocent kid, but no, it has to be a whole hassle."

"And it's not going to get any easier," T.J. said. "The media is still going to be going crazy trying to get any detail it can. The only way we'll get a police officer's attention is if we either commit a crime or become the victims of one."

"That's not a bad i-" Spinelli started.

"We're not doing anything illegal, Spinelli," Vince said firmly. "But hey, what about that guy you know that let us visit Gus that one time?"

"He's in the Bahamas," she replied.

"I know," Gretchen spoke up. "How about this? We go to the trial tomorrow, according to the local news update I got on my computer it starts at ten in the morning, and give the tape to Gus's lawyer? He'll be able to get the tape properly processed into evidence and then everyone will be able to see that Gus is innocent!"

"That's brilliant, Gretchen," T.J. grinned.

"Yes," Mikey nodded. "Hopefully the courts will be able to get this whole mess sorted out quickly and soon Gus will be back here at school with us."

…..

Gus nervously straightened his tie as he sat in the hard wooden chair in the courtroom. He was slightly relieved when he heard his trial had been pushed up, since it meant that he got to spend several hours each day out of the gloomy prison cell, but at the same time he couldn't help but feel anxious as he thought of what was yet to come.

The trial would be starting in twenty minutes. He watched as the wooden benches began to fill. Nearly everyone was sitting on the prosecution's half of the court. His stomach lurched as he saw Ashley A's father and brother and Theresa's parents. He felt so much sympathy for these people. He couldn't imagine losing someone you loved that much to such a pointless, cruel event.

The only people sitting on his side of the court were his parents. They sat a few rows back; Gus knew it was because they didn't want him to see them cry.

The jury was led in, and then the bailiff ordered everyone to rise as the judge entered the courtroom.

"Don't look so nervous," Jerome whispered to him as the judge took her seat. "It makes you look guilty."

Gus didn't say anything back to his lawyer. He just took his seat and looked right at the judge.

The first part of the trial was rather dull. The judge read the charges against him again, and then told the jury what they were going to have to do. Once that was done, the prosecutor took the floor.

"It was an afternoon like every other at Third Street High School," she began, looking at the jury. "Teenagers sat in the cafeteria, eating their lunches, discussing recent sporting events, planning out their weekends and perhaps finishing a late homework assignment or two. But then, that ordinary day became a living nightmare as Francis Abrams entered the cafeteria and began firing bullets at unsuspecting students. By the end of the massacre, a dozen students and two teachers were dead, and several others were wounded, and Francis Abrams had taken his own life. But Abrams, as I will soon prove to you, did not act alone in this horrific event. He had a partner. This partner had been friends with him throughout middle school and high school and had helped Abrams sell drugs at school and other illegal items. This partner fired a gun too, and killed four of the fourteen victims as they desperately tried to escape. This partner is sitting with us in court today, ladies and gentlemen, and his name is Gustav Griswald."

Gus heard his mother let out a soft sob, and he strained himself not to turn around and look at her. He heard the door at the back of the courtroom creak open. More newscasters no doubt, he figured.

"Griswald's fingerprints," the prosecutor continued. "Were found on the gun that was fired in the hallway where the four bodies were discovered. He was also in possession of that weapon was he was attained by law enforcement shortly after. Throughout this trial I will present to you all the indisputable evidence that will clearly prove beyond a reasonable doubt that Gustav Griswald is guilty of murder."

She sat back down at her table, looking very satisfied with herself.

"Defense, your opening statement," the judge said, nodding at Jerome.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury," Jerome said, standing up as her straightened his tie. "I am not going to deny that the shooting that took place at Third Street High School was anything short of a tragedy. Innocent lives were lost, and their families are still suffering from grief that I cannot even begin to describe. My client, Gus Griswald, however, while still standing here today, is also a victim."

Gus felt his stomach tighten. Were was this going?

"For years," Jerome continued. "My client has been bullied by the proverbial cool cliques-"

Gus almost let his jaw fall open. What was Jerome doing? Why was he lying in front of the whole court?

"Laughed at and mocked, shoved and pushed, everyday Gus had to endure the torments of the school's alpha students. He struggled to fit in, but could never succeed. Francis Abrams was the only person at the whole school he could relate to. Both were outcasts, drawn together by their solitude. My client's actions were wrong, of course, and if he could go back, he would certainly take them back, but at the moment of the shooting, at the moment when Francis Abrams told him to take a gun and shoot his fellow classmates, Gus was not himself. He was being brainwashed into thinking that killing his tormentors was the only way to get the bulling to stop. Each of the students killed in this horrific shooting are victims, but as I said before, they are not the only ones."

Gus could barely believe what he had heard as Jerome sat back down next to him. So this was his plan? To lie to everyone instead of taking two minutes to actually hear his side of the story? The truth?

"The court will take a ten minute recess," the judge said.

"I think I saw a look of sympathy from one of the jurors during my speech," Jerome whispered to Gus. "That's good. All we need to do is convince one, and if they can't make a decision, you can at least get a-"

"Excuse me, sir," a voice behind them said.

Gus spun around to see T.J., Mikey, Vince, Spinelli and Gretchen standing there.

"You-you came," Gus stammered, almost too stunned to speak.

"You know them?" Jerome asked. Then he shook his head. "Look, kids, if you're going to be here, I can't have you interfering with this case. Now why don't you just go back and sit down at-"

"Hey, we have something for you," Spinelli snapped at him. "It could help your case."

"My case doesn't need help," Jerome said. "I have a rock solid-"

"What do you have?" Gus asked, cutting him off.

"Proof that you're innocent, that's what," T.J. said.

Gus felt his spirits rise. "But-what-how?"

"We'll explain later; it's a long story," Vince said. "Right now we really need your lawyer to get this tape to the judge so it can be processed into evidence."

"I will do no such thing," Jerome spat. "I am a professional. How do you think it will look for my reputation if I use evidence in my case brought to me by post-pubescent teenagers? I'm smart enough to get my client off on my own, thank you."

"Why can't you just look at what they have?" Gus asked. "It could-"

"I am not going to be told how to do my job," Jerome said loudly, crossing his arms. "Now you five get out of here before I tell that court officer to have you removed."

"We're just trying to help!" Mikey exclaimed. "Please, it's for Gus!"

"Enough! Now get out and-"

"Jerome," Gus said firmly, standing up. "You haven't listened to one thing I've told you since my parents hired you, and I'm sick of it. You know what? You're fired."

"Fired?" Jerome repeated. "You-you can't be serious; you'll have no one to represent you!"

"I'll manage," he said coldly. "Now get out of here before I call that court officer."


	29. Chapter 29

"Court will resume in one minute," the court officer said loudly.

Gus turned to his friends, panicked. "What-what do I do? I don't have a lawyer!"

"You technically don't need one," Gretchen told him. "You are allowed to represent yourself, if you choose to."

"I can?"

"Well, yes," Gretchen nodded. "But…there's only a 3% success rate for the individuals who do that."

"3%?" he exclaimed. "I'm doomed!"

"Just show the judge the tape, Gus," T.J. said. "And you'll be fine. That's picture perfect proof that you're innocent. There's no way they could charge you after seeing it."

"Court is back in session," the judge said, stepping back up to her stand. "Where is the defendant's lawyer?"

"He's, er…done," Gus said shakily, turning back around. "I'm going to be representing myself from now on."

The judge raised an eyebrow. "Does the prosecution have any objections to this?"

"Nope," the prosecutor said, looking rather pleased.

"You do know the saying, Mr. Griswald," the judge said. "That the man who represents himself has a fool for a client?"

"Um, no, your honor, I'm afraid I haven't heard it."

"Well, that's no matter," she said. "We will no resume the trial. Will the-"

"Excuse me, your honor," Gus said nervously, standing slowly. "I've-I've recently come to possess some new evidence that-"

"Objection," the prosecutor said at once. "The prosecution had no notice of this new evidence and has not had a chance to-"

"I haven't seen it either," Gus said quickly. "It was just delivered to me a minute ago."

"Has this evidence been processed by police?" the judge asked.

"I-no," Gus said. "It was not recovered at the crime scene. But if-"

"Counselors, approach," the judge said.

The prosecutor stepped towards the judge's seat.

"That means you too now, Griswald."

"Oh, sorry," Gus said, hurrying over.

"Your honor," the prosecutor said. "This evidence is simply not permissible. My office and I are supposed to be given a copy of every shred of evidence that is produced in this case and-"

"Relax, Margaret," the judge told her. "The boy's just told you that he hasn't had a chance to review this evidence either. Now, what I would like to know, Mr. Griswald, is exactly what this evidence is."

Gus held out the tape. "This tape shows that I wasn't the one who killed the four students."

"How do we know he didn't just use some fancy technology to alter that tape?" the prosecutor exclaimed.

"Mr. Griswald, where did you get this tape?" the judge asked.

"It was…given to me," Gus said carefully.

"By who?"

"By…some kids I go to school with," Gus admitted lamely. "But they wouldn't have altered anything!"

"How convenient," Margaret snapped. "Your honor, I move to have this tape thrown out on the grounds that-"

"Enough," the judge said, holding up her hand. "Now, in light of this new information, I am going to dismiss the court until tomorrow afternoon. During this time I will submit this tape to the police department's technological analysis team to determine if it has been altered in anyway. After, I will view it to assess its significance in this case. Are we all at an agreement?"

Gus and the prosecutor (though rather reluctantly) both nodded.

"Good," the judge said. "Jurors are dismissed until tomorrow, and they are reminded that they are not do discuss the case with anyone. Mr. Griswald will be escorted back to jail and-"

"He still has to go back?" T.J. exclaimed, standing up. "But just watch that tape and you'll see he's innocent!"

"Bailiff, have this man removed," the judge said boredly.

"I'm leaving, I'm leaving," T.J. said as the bailiff approached him.

"Don't worry about me, T.J.," Gus said as T.J. turned to leave. "I'm going to be just fine."


	30. Chapter 30

"What do you think is going to happen?" Vince asked softly at the cafeteria table later that day, breaking the stone silence that had befallen over the five.

"The tape isn't altered," Mikey said. "There's no reason for it to be thrown out of evidence."

"Right," T.J. nodded. "Tomorrow at that trial the judge will announce that this whole thing was just a big misunderstanding and they'll release him."

"But what if something goes wrong?" Spinelli spoke up. "What if that tape _does_ get thrown out? Where does that leave Gus? With do lawyer and an entire town that hates his guts and wants to see him locked away."

"That's not going to happen," Mikey said firmly. "We can't think like that."

"He's right, Spinelli," Gretchen said. "There was nothing wrong with that tape."

"Maybe that doesn't matter," Spinelli said. "Look, all I know is that the whole town is still shaken up over this whole thing. Wherever you go, you still hear people whispering about it. And seeing as they can't do anything to Francis anymore, the only person they have left to blame is Gus."

"You're saying that the police will lie and say that the tape was altered?" Vince frowned.

"It's not like they haven't done it before," Spinelli mumbled under her breath. "When I was thirteen, my brother Joey got arrested for robbing a gas station. He was innocent. He just happened to be in the store at the time, buying a soda or something. Anyway, the guy who did rob the gas station got away and the police couldn't find him, but I guess they wanted to get _someone_ for the crime, so they came and picked up my brother and claimed that he was the guy's partner. The gas station had a security camera, but when the police reviewed it, they claimed that the shot was too distorted to get a clear look at what happened. Joey just got out of jail last year."

"Spinelli, that's awful, I know," T.J. sighed. "And the fact that none of us even knew about that is just as bad, but…right now I just think that we need to stay positive about Gus and maybe it will all work out."

"Yeah, maybe," Spinelli nodded. "Or maybe it will just fall apart."

….

Gus shifted nervously in his wooden chair. In just a few short minutes the judge would enter and announce whether or not that video was going to be used in the trial.

"Gus!"

He turned around and saw T.J., Spinelli, Mikey, Gretchen and Vince walking towards him.

"How you feeling?" Mikey asked him.

"Nervous," he answered truthfully. "That tape…it really shows that I'm innocent?"

"It shows exactly what happened in that hallway," Gretchen nodded.

"So if it doesn't get thrown out, does that mean I'm free?"

"Well, the prosecution will have to formally dismiss the charges after seeing the tape themselves," she replied. "But that tape doesn't give them much of a case."

Just then the bailiff entered the courtroom. "Will counselors please follow me to the judge's chambers?"

Gus stood up slowly.

"Good luck, Gus," T.J. whispered.

….

"Did they forget about us here?" Spinelli muttered after three hours had passed. "What's taking so long?"

"Let's hope that's a good sign," Vince said.

Suddenly the doors at the back of the court opened and Gus and the prosecutor were led back in. The judge entered from another door a moment later.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the court," the judge said once everyone was settled. "In light of recent events and through new evidence, the prosecution has found it appropriate to drop all charges against the defendant."

"Yes!" Mikey cheered happily along with the other four. The other side of the courtroom became rowdy as well, but they were making hisses and boos and yelling profanities.

The judge banged her gavel. "Order!"

The court quieted down at once.

"The tape that has cleared Mr. Griswald will now be shown," the judge continued as the bailiff wheeled in a cart of all sorts of cameras and projectors. It took him a moment to set everything up, but once he did, and the chilling video flashed through the courtroom, the court was captivated.

T.J. glanced over at Gus and noticed that he was silently crying.

Once the video finished and the lights turned on, the judge spoke again.

"This video will of course be released to the public shortly," she said. "Mr. Griswald, the state apologizes for putting you through this ordeal. Is there anything you would like to say on your behalf?"

"Yes," Gus said softly. "I'm still sorry. For all of them."

T.J looked over at the other side of the court. The first two rows of seats behind the prosecutor were lined with the families of the victims. They all had tears in their eyes, but the looks of pure anger that had been there only moments ago was now gone.

The judge nodded. "The state thanks the jury for its time. Please follow the court officer out. Mr. Gustav, once you have been processed, you are free to go."

Gus nodded. He stood up and started to follow an officer out when he looked back at his five friends.

"Thank you," he whispered, and then left the courtroom.


	31. Chapter 31

Gus blinked as he looked around his room. It had been far too long since he had been here, and he had missed the familiarity of it.

"I spent all day yesterday cleaning up in here," his mother said, coming into the room. She absentmindedly began straightening the bed sheets. "I'm putting a roast on; I know it's your favorite and I doubt you ate a decent meal while you were in that horrible place."

"No, it was usually just some sort of glop," Gus grinned.

"I'll need to go shopping tomorrow and buy you some new clothes," she continued. "You must've grown three inches since you've been away."

"Mom, I'm exactly the same height I was before," he laughed. "I wasn't away _that _long."

"Yes, you were," she said softly, throwing her arms around her son. "Trust me."

When she pulled away, she wiped her eyes. I'm going to go start dinner. Your father should be back any minute; he's still down at the courthouse finishing up some final touches on all the paperwork."

"Okay, mom," he nodded.

He lay down on his soft bed as she left. It felt much better than the rock hard cot he had been sleeping on for the past several weeks.

Suddenly the doorbell rang.

"I'll get that," he called out to his mother and hurried to his front door. He peered through the peephole before he opened it; he was nearly ambushed by the media after he got out of the court house that day, and he didn't want to risk any reporters flooding into his house. There were no reporters, though, standing at his front step.

"H-Hi," Gus said, opening the door to reveal T.J., Vince, Mikey, Gretchen and Spinelli.

"We just wanted to see how you were doing," T.J. said.

"Yeah, you had a rather exciting day, didn't you?" Mikey smiled.

"You guys saved me," Gus said. "Even though-even though we're not friends like we used to be."

The six were silent for a moment, and then Gus cleared his throat. "Is-Is there anything I could do to repay you guys?"

"You don't have to," Vince said. "We did it because we _are_ friends."

"But we-"

"We were in a rut for five years or so," Spinelli shrugged. "Does that really mean we still can't start over?"

"Yeah, Gus," Gretchen nodded. "The five of us have grown a lot closer through this whole thing, but still, it wasn't the same without you with us."

"We realized that we didn't like the people we had become," T.J. nodded.

"The friends we hung out the past few years were nothing like we used to be," Vince agreed.

"Really?" Gus asked, hardly daring to believe what he was hearing.

"Come on, Gus," Spinelli grinned. "You remember how close we all used to be. We should've all realized it was only a matter of time before we would all wind up together again."

"I-This is-I can't believe this," Gus stammered, a smile forming on his face. "You have no idea how much I've wanted…this."

"We all did," Mikey said. "Deep down, we never stopped caring for one another. We just forgot to show it for awhile."

"But what about all your other friends?" Gus asked. "Vince, what about your jock friends? And what about those art people you hang out with, Spinelli, or-"

"Like we said," T.J. cut him off. "Those guys weren't anything like we used to be. I think it's safe to say that we're done with them."

"Brought down some of our popularities a bit," Vince shrugged. "But if you don't mind sitting with a bunch of outcasts at school…"

"I'd be honored," Gus, laughed. "Hey, my mom's making a huge dinner. Sort of a little celebration…I'm sure she wouldn't mind if you guys came in and ate with us."

"That sounds nice," Mikey nodded. "But first, there's something we have to do…"


	32. Chapter 32

"Does it still look the same inside?" Gus asked softly as the six walked into the playground of Third Street Elementary.

"Exactly the same," Vince nodded. "And hey, get this; Finster's still here!"

"Really?" Gus exclaimed. "How's she holding up?"

"Don't think dealing with high school students is exactly her cup of tea," Spinelli laughed. "Last week she found Denise Wolie and Kevin Hart going at it in the janitor's closet. She made them stay until midnight and write over and over again that from now on, they'll 'control their urges'. It was hilarious!"

"The playground looks just like it always did," Gus said, looking around. "You know, every time I passed by here after we left, I always had this urge to just jump the fence and go back and play on Old Rusty or swing on the swings or something. Pretty stupid, huh?"

"You know," Mikey said thoughtfully. "I've wanted to always to that myself."

"Me too," Gretchen nodded.

"Same here," Vince grinned.

"So have I," Spinelli said.

They looked at T.J. "Well," he said. "Nothing's stopping us now. Come on!"

Forgetting that he was now almost six feet tall and seventeen years old, T.J. broke off into a run towards Old Rusty.

The others followed right behind him, and for the first time since they left the sixth grade, they just had fun; they slid down the slide and climbed on the monkey bars, and after a quick game of 3 vs. 3 kickball, the gang settled down in the grassy field by the jungle gym.

"I've really missed this," Mikey said. "Just playing; not worrying about anything."

"It _was _a lot of fun today," Gretchen agreed. "I can't believe when we were still here all we could think about was growing up."

"Being teenagers sure isn't as fun as we all thought it would be," Spinelli said.

"Yeah," T.J. sighed. Suddenly, he remembered something. "Hey, you guys?"

"What's up?" Vince asked.

"Come with me," he said, standing up. "I can't believe I forgot all about it…"

"Forgot about what?" Gus frowned as the five followed T.J.

"I think it was here," T.J. mumbled, kneeling down by a patch of dirt. He began digging with his own hands.

"What are you doing?" Spinelli asked. "Have you completely-" but then she stopped as T.J. revealed a pile of items.

"Our time capsule," Mikey breathed. "I forgot all about it."

"It's been here almost five years," Gretchen said.

"I forgot what I even put in," Vince said as they all sat around the hole.

T.J., his hands covered in dirt, pulled out a small, faded blue cellophane package.

"A Winger Dinger!" Mikey exclaimed, taking it from T.J. "I remember putting that in now!"

"I miss those," T.J. laughed. "Can't believe they stopped selling them."

"You know, you could probably still eat that," Gretchen told Mikey. "What, with all the chemicals in it, it's probably still preserved."

"No, that's okay," Mikey said. "I think I'll just keep it."

"What else is in there, T.J.?" Gus asked excitedly.

"I think we all know who this belongs to," T.J. grinned, pulling out a rubber kickball. He tossed it to Vince.

"You know," Vince said. "I always wanted to play kickball in high school. Don't get me wrong; I love basketball and baseball and track, but sometimes I just wanted to play something a little more simple."

"Hey, you remember in fourth grade when Prickley organized that kickball tournament against his brother?" Spinelli asked.

"It was a lot more fun once we got those kids from the other school to just play for the fun instead of like a competition," Mikey said.

"Maybe once the high school opens up again, I can talk to coach," Vince said. "See if one day during gym we can get a game going."

"Beats running laps," Spinelli said.

"Let's see what else is in here," T.J. said. He pulled out a dirt-covered comic book.

"My old Beanie McChimp!" Gus said happily. "Wow, we used to watch this non-stop, didn't we?"

"Every Saturday morning," Gretchen laughed.

"Now I don't even get up on Saturday's until well after noon," Spinelli said.

"You could probably sell that online for a pretty penny," Vince said. "It's probably a collectors item now."

"Sell it?" Gus repeated. "No way! I'm saving this baby forever! It's the one where Beanie saves the elderly from the flesh-eating kangaroos!"

"Here's what you must've put in, Spinelli," T.J. said, uncovering a worn boot.

"Awesome, my boots!" Spinelli said kicking off her current shoes and sliding them on.

"Your feet really haven't grown since elementary school?" T.J. grinned.

"They were always huge on me then," Spinelli said. "Now they actually fit right."

"You're probably the only girl I've ever seen who wore boots with dresses," Gretchen said.

"Don't you forget it," Spinelli said. "Man, I really kicked some butt in these boots."

"And they really hurt when you stepped on our toes," Vince said.

"Whoa, what's this?" T.J. asked, pulling out a small electronic device.

"Galileo!" Gretchen exclaimed.

"That thing helped us out a lot with T.J.'s plans," Mikey smiled.

"Does it still work?" Gus asked.

Gretchen shook her head. "The batteries would've died, and they don't sell chargers for them anymore."

"Too bad," Vince said. "It was really useful, although now that I think about it, most phones do what it used to."

"I know," Gretchen nodded. "But you know what? I still think I'm going to try to find a charger online. I'm sure if I look hard enough I can find one somewhere."

"Probably," T.J. nodded.

"Well, your thing's all that's left now," Spinelli said to him. "Did you find yours yet?"

"I think I have it," T.J. said, pulling something out of the hole. The gang gasped as they saw the dirty, damp, red baseball cap.

"Your hat," Gus breathed.

"The one you wore everyday," Vince said softly.

"Yeah," T.J. whispered, fingering the hat in his hands.

"I can't believe it stayed in one piece," Gretchen said. "I would've thought the fabric would've started to break up by now."

"Pretty lucky, isn't it?" Mikey grinned.

"I forgot how attached to this thing I was," T.J. said. He placed the filthy hat on his head.

"Looks good," Spinelli laughed.

"Thanks," T.J. smiled. He wiped his hands on his shirt. "Come on, let's get out of here."


	33. Chapter 33

One week had passed since the trial had ended and Gus had been freed of all charges. Now, though, he was going back to school for the first time in almost two months. Since the high school wasn't scheduled to open back up until the next school year, him and the rest of he students would be finishing out their year at the elementary school.

Gus was nervous. What would it be like going back? But then he reminded himself that it didn't matter what all the other students said about him, because he had the five people who cared about him the most behind him.

He heard a honk, and he looked out his window to see Vince's car in his driveway.

"Bye, mom," Gus said, grabbing his backpack as he ran to the door. "Bye, dad. See you guys tonight."

"Have a good day at school, honey," his mom said.

"What's up, Gus Man?" Vince grinned as Gus climbed into the back seat of the car.

"Feels weird to be going to school in the afternoon," Gus said.

"You get used to it," Gretchen, who was sitting in the front passenger seat, said.

The three of them parked in the parking lot just as Spinelli drove in with her truck. Her, T.J. and Mikey hoped out and headed towards the others.

"So, Gus," T.J. said. "You ready? You haven't been in school for awhile."

"I hope so," he nodded. "I already know I'm going to be behind in my lessons. I have to go to summer school starting in June to make up for the lost time."

"What? That's totally not fair!" Spinelli exclaimed. "It's not your fault you were locking in jail for all that time."

"It's fine," Gus shrugged. "And they've already told me that it's not going to be held against me when I apply for colleges next year, provided I explain everything to the schools I want to go to."

"Well that's good news," Mikey smiled. "Come on, we should get in. It looks like it's about to rain."

The six walked into the school's main hallway, which was flooded with students. When they walked in, though, the commotion that had previously been going on seemed to die down and all eyes were focused on them.

"What are they all staring at?" Gus asked nervously as they parted their way through the crowd.

"Just ignore it," T.J. told him. "Come on; we've checked already. You're in our classroom."

The gang was about to turn a corner when they suddenly found themselves face to face with members of Vince's basketball team and T.J.'s soccer team.

"What do you want?" Vince spat at them. "We're trying to get to class."

"Is this really want you want?" Sebastian said to T.J., crossing his arms. "You're hanging out with total losers! And now you add in that Griswald punk-"

"You better watch it," T.J. said.

"And what about you, Vince?" Cole said. "You used to be on top. You're going to be nothing if you keep hanging out with these freaks."

"Then I'll be happy being nothing," Vince said firmly.

The jocks shook their heads.

"Whatever," Sebastian said, walking past the six, making a point to shove T.J. out of the way as he passed. "Don't say I didn't try to warn you."

"Same here," Cole said as he headed off in the opposite direction with the rest of the basketball team.

"Wow," Gus breathed. "You guys are-are-"

"We told you," Spinelli said. "We're done with them. All of them. It's just the six of us now."

"Come on, let's go find six desks together," Mikey smiled. "It's been far too long since we've all been in that classroom together."

…

AN- Well, this story is officially over. Thanks so much to everyone who supported it; you guys are the greatest!


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